


Matchless

by AVAAntares



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alien Technology, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Timeline, Cardiff, Drama, Dubious Science, Episode: Big Finish Audio Drama 2.5: Broken, Episode: Big Finish Special 3: Torchwood One: Before the Fall, F/M, M/M, Romance, Soulmates, but not the soulmate AU you think it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-19 04:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 73,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14229033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVAAntares/pseuds/AVAAntares
Summary: Ianto Jones entered his birthmark into the matchmaking registry in the hopes of landing an easy, fulfilling romance with his soulmate. But when his mark starts changing and his love life falls apart, he turns to a research group, hoping science can succeed where destiny has failed.He’s forgotten that all science has an agenda. And while Ianto would give anything to find true love, he’s starting to question whether there really is such a thing as destiny…A very Torchwood twist on the soulmate AU. (Follows canon timeline/events.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler warning: This fic contains minor references to EU stories _Submission, Cascade,_ and _Kaleidoscope_ , and contains major spoilers for _Torchwood One: Before The Fall_ and _Broken_. However, it is not necessary to be familiar with those episodes to understand this story.

“No match?” Ianto Jones leaned forward, as though to hear better. “What do you mean, no match?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The man behind the desk pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, but didn’t bother to make eye contact with his client. “It seems we don’t have any matching mark in our registry.”

“You’re certain of that?”

The man shrugged and swiveled his monitor toward Ianto. On the left side of the screen, just beneath the SoulMatch logo, was a magnified photo of the mark on Ianto’s wrist—an angular shape described faintly in melanin, scarcely darker than the surrounding skin. On the right was an empty search field with the words “No Match Found” printed below it in red.

“But you said yours was the most extensive birthmark registry on the planet,” Ianto persisted.

“It certainly is. We have over two billion birthmarks in our database, and our proprietary algorithm matches them with over ninety-eight percent accuracy.”

“And yet somehow you can't find my soulmate.”

The man gave a disapproving cough. “We prefer to use the proper term, _signum._ ” He realigned his screen. “And we can't match what isn't in the database. If your signum hasn’t registered with SoulMatch, there’s nothing we can do. There are, of course, other registries. Less reliable, and with vastly inferior customer service, but you might try those as a last resort.”

Ianto couldn't imagine more inferior customer service. “Those databases aren’t included in your search?”

“They can be—for a fee. But those registries are typically only used by those who, shall we say, aren’t in a financial position to perform a proper search, so generally they don’t make it into the master database.” His glasses had slipped down again, and he peered over the rims. “You gave me to understand that you wanted the lower-priced registration package.”

Ianto’s teeth ached from clenching, and he consciously flexed his jaw before replying. “So you’re telling me my soul—my _signum_ is most likely…”

“Someone of no great means,” the man supplied. The _such as yourself_ was implied in the angle of his nose. “Of course, it’s possible that your signum simply hasn’t registered with any service at all. There are a few such Luddites left in the world, you know. Old-fashioned folk who prefer to do things the hard way, instead of leaving it to the experts.”

“Hard to believe, after seeing what the _experts_ are capable of.” Ianto rose abruptly from his seat. “Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

“Mr. Jones!” the man at the desk cried. “Before you go, would you be interested in subscribing to our Match Alert service? For only £4.95 monthly, you can receive an alert on your mobile or email should a match appear in our database.”

“No, thank you,” Ianto said firmly. “I believe you’ve taken quite enough of my money for one day.”

He made his way out of the office suite, scowling at the two interlinked hearts of the SoulMatch logo stenciled on the door.

* * *

Outside, Ianto jingled the few coins remaining in his pocket and debated his next destination. The SoulMatch registration had taken most of his remaining cash; what was left might buy him a few drinks or a day’s groceries, but he would definitely have to find some kind of gainful employment in order to make rent this month. At least the lease was in Soren’s name, and his flatmate was pretty casual about the rent. If Ianto asked him for an extra week to pay, he’d probably allow it.

Provided Ianto could find a job in that time.

But he _was_ doing his best. Or had been, until he’d gotten sidetracked by the lure of romance, happiness, and financial security. He’d been in the city center to drop off his CV at a few likely companies, when he’d spotted the iconic SoulMatch logo on the door of an adjacent suite. Against his better judgment, he’d wandered in, and within minutes he’d been railroaded through the registration process and relieved of the contents of his wallet.

Signum registration was something he’d been thinking about for a long time, but the steep fee had always put him off. Today, he’d somehow convinced himself that a positive match might lead to a serious relationship with someone in better financial circumstances than himself, and that it was therefore worth gambling the last of his savings to make the connection. But his rags-to-riches dream had come to nothing, and now he had to face the truth: He’d simply been feeling lonely, as he had ever since he’d come to London—and even before that, if he were honest with himself. And now he was not only still lonely, but also near-penniless. Even if he _had_ found his match, he mused grimly, he couldn’t even afford to buy her—or him—a nice dinner.

Ianto groaned and looked around. While he’d been lost in thought, his feet had carried him out of the forest of modern glass and steel and into an area of smaller brick structures. In the long afternoon shadows cast by the skyscrapers behind him, the incandescent halo of pub lights beckoned warmly. The early February breeze iced his bare neck, and Ianto turned in at the nearest door.

The pub was not yet crowded, though Ianto guessed it would fill quickly once the nearby offices closed for the day. Several patrons lounged at candlelit tables, while the bar was nearly empty. Favoring solitude, Ianto took a seat at one end of the bar and ordered the cheapest ale on draught. As he carefully counted out his coins, he again berated himself for wasting the little money he’d had on signum registration. His time would have been better spent looking for work. Or begging on the street.

The bartender put a pint in front of him, and Ianto sipped it pensively. Would romance have been easier or harder, he wondered, during the previous generation? Was it better to go out blindly into the world seeking a mate, without any assurance that there was someone out there, or to know you had one perfect match waiting for you, but not know where to find that person? He imagined it might be easier to make friends and date people without the mark on his wrist telling him that they weren’t right for him. Perhaps that’s why he felt so lonely: He simply wasn’t willing to experiment when he knew it wasn’t meant to be.

Ianto tugged back his sleeve and traced the birthmark, a faint, irregular triangle with a stroke across the narrow end. When he’d lived at home, his sister had teased him that it looked like the “next chapter” button on a remote control. He tried to think of that symbolism in a positive light, framing his signum as the exciting next chapter in his own life, rather than the button people wanted to push to skip forward to something else when they met him.

The mark had been growing more visible, of late, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d found an article on the internet that suggested the mark grew stronger the longer one spent alone, as though the body were trying to make it more obvious to better attract one’s signum, but he wasn’t sure he put much stock in that theory. After all, he’d felt alone for years, and the mark had only recently begun to darken.

He was still staring at his wrist when a slim body slid onto the stool beside him. “Mind if I sit here?” a female voice asked. He glanced up to see an attractive young woman smiling hesitantly at him. “Only there are no tables left, and I don’t like the way that bloke by the other open seat looked at me.”

It took Ianto a moment to find his voice. He wasn’t used to beautiful strangers speaking to him. “No, yeah, fine. Sit where you like.” She blinked at the curtness of his words, and Ianto flinched inwardly. He floundered a bit before blurting, “Sorry, I was sort of lost in thought. Didn’t mean to… Um. Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

An instant after he’d spoken, Ianto wished he could withdraw the words from the air. He could scarcely pay for his own drink, much less a stranger’s. Fortunately, she saved him from that embarrassment by shaking her head. “Thanks, but I’m just waiting on some friends from work. They got caught up in a project and had to stay late.” She picked up the pub menu and skimmed it.

“Oh.” Ianto poked awkwardly at the condensation ring his glass was leaving on the wood. “You work around here?”

“Not too far away.”

“Do you like it?” This time she shot him a sidelong glance, and Ianto hastily added, “I’ve been looking for a job, so I was wondering if you had any recommendations.”

The woman shrugged. “Depends on what kind of work you’re looking for.”

“Anything that pays, at the moment,” Ianto replied. “I mean… I’m pretty good with most business, er, office-type things. Computers, research, records, organizing… making coffee…” He trailed off at the look on her face and fought the urge to crawl beneath the nearest table. No wonder he couldn’t land an interview, if that was the best description of his skills he could manage.

“You have any experience? Training? Education?”

“Bachelor’s degree from Cardiff University. Honours, even.” Ianto smiled wryly. “But it seems four years devoted to English Literature and History doesn’t translate to marketable skills for the modern business market.”

“I know that story too well.” She returned his grim smile. “For the record, neither does Fashion Design. You have any particular type of job in mind?”

“I’m not too choosy. I think I’d be a pretty good office manager, but I’d be happy with anything at this point, even if it’s just answering phones.”

The woman cringed. “You must really need that paycheck.”

Ianto nodded. “I have just enough for the week’s groceries in my bank account, and then I’ll be out on the street.”

She regarded him with sympathy. “No place to fall back on?”

He shook his head. “My family… it’s complicated.”

“It usually is.” She signaled the bartender and pointed at the cocktail special listed on the blackboard over the bar, then turned back to Ianto. “I couldn’t help noticing you were…” She tapped her wrist to indicate the place where his birthmark was located. “Love problems?”

Ianto laughed wryly. “The problem is that I’m a gullible idiot. I let someone at SoulMatch talk me into registering, even though I couldn’t afford it. Not that it did any good; they couldn’t find a match for me.”

“Oh, that’s rough.” The woman shrugged. “Personally, I don’t put a lot of stock in the whole registry thing. I think if there’s enough destiny in the universe to give two people a matching mark to show they’re meant to be together, then there’s enough destiny to make sure their paths cross at some point. And if it takes a while, well, there are a lot of interesting people in the world to meet in the meantime.”

“Fair point. Wish I’d thought of it a few hours ago.” Ianto finished his drink.

The bartender brought the woman the drink she’d ordered, and she gestured at Ianto’s empty glass. “You want another one?”

Ianto hesitated. “I really shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have spent the money on this one, only…”

The woman turned back to the bartender. “Bring him another one of whatever he’s having, and put it on my bill.”

Ianto balked. “I… you…”

She grinned and shook her head. “No worries. My friends still aren’t here, and you’re keeping me company. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you.” Ianto smiled warmly.

“And I have an ulterior motive.” She winked. “You see, I actually work in the HR department for a big… institute, and I know we’re looking to recruit some new staff. It’s a really exclusive company, so I can’t promise anything, but if you tell me more about yourself, I might— _might_ —be able to get you an interview.”

Ianto’s world realigned, and in that moment he didn’t care if she were telling the truth, or if it were all some kind of elaborate kidnapping gimmick. “I… yeah, sure, of course! What would you like to know?”

“Well, let’s start with your name,” she laughed.

“Jones,” he blurted. “Ianto Jones.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones.” The woman extended her hand. “My name’s Lisa Hallett.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lisa’s mark was located on her outer thigh. Ianto didn’t find it until their second night together. He’d been so nervous the first time he spent the night with her that he’d scarcely been able to look at her body, but once that initial awkwardness was past, he’d quickly spotted the pale pink birthmark standing out against her dark skin. It was a symmetrical oval with darker patches that, when viewed from the right angle, formed something that vaguely resembled a robot face. Ianto often joked that it was the head of C-3PO, mostly to elicit eyerolls from Lisa. She usually slapped his shoulder and called him a nerd, which he didn’t really mind. Besides, it was difficult to dispute the accusation when they were snuggled together under his Star Wars duvet.

The path Ianto had climbed to be with Lisa had been a long and challenging one. He’d been at Torchwood One for several months before he’d summoned the courage to ask Lisa on a date. Though his position was officially that of a lowly Junior Researcher, he’d quickly advanced in reputation until he was unofficial PA to director Yvonne Hartman herself, with a commensurate pay increase. Once he felt he could afford to do things properly, he’d asked Lisa to dinner. That first date had been a disaster—his fault, all his friends informed him—and he’d nearly given up hope.

He’d tried taking Lisa’s advice and seeing other people, but that had been even worse. Carly Roberts, one of the staff biologists, was so needy and possessive around him that he was afraid of what would happen if he actually _did_ ask her out. Besides, her mark was clearly visible—a heart-shaped patch on her forearm—and it was nothing like his, which provided him with a convenient excuse to deflect her advances.

Then there was Rachel Allan. He’d never found her mark during their brief relationship, but he was reasonably certain he wouldn’t have been destined for a life match with a psychotic murderer, so he didn’t really regret their separation. She’d been Retconned after it was all over, of course, but for weeks afterward Ianto did his best to avoid her, even in the hallways or cafeteria. It was just too eerie to see her and remember what they had once been, and what she had become.

The fiasco with Rachel was almost enough to make him swear off dating for good, but Ianto’s thoughts kept returning to Lisa. He tried asking her out again, and she graciously gave him a second chance just before Christmas. From there, their relationship had moved forward at a brisk pace, so that by the following spring—a little over a year after they’d met, and four months since they’d started seeing each other—they had begun to discuss moving in together.

“Maybe once the science division sorts out that sphere, things at the office will slow down a little, and we can go look at flats,” Lisa suggested as they cuddled at one end of her sofa. “Something a little closer to work, maybe.”

“We’ll be lucky to find an empty shelf in someone’s garden shed closer to Canary Wharf. I doubt we could afford anything in town.”

“It’s always about money with you, isn’t it?” Lisa laughed, rubbing his leg affectionately.

Ianto shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t leaning against. “When you’ve gone without it, it suddenly seems much more important.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Well, you’re not going without _now_. I helped out with payroll when Sakshi was on maternity leave, remember? I happen to know how generous Yvonne was with your Christmas bonus. And besides, with both our salaries combined, I think we can afford any flat we like.” She shot him a sly, teasing look. “Unless you’re saying it’s not worth the extra money to spend every day and night with me?”

“Lisa, if you wanted to live in Buckingham Palace and the only way to afford it was to sell my internal organs on the black market, I’d do it. Anything to make you happy.”

She tilted her chin up for a kiss. “Giving up any part of you wouldn’t make me happy,” she murmured, settling against his shoulder. “Besides, I’m allergic to dogs. Too many Corgis in Buckingham Palace.”

Ianto chuckled. “That settles it, then. Garden sheds it is.”

Lisa slapped his arm lightly. “Scrooge.”

Torchwood kept them busy with increased ghost shifts and ever-expanding projects, so they didn’t find time to go flat hunting together for another month. It was fine, really; Lisa’s term of lease didn’t expire until the end of summer, and Soren was in no hurry for Ianto to move out, so they took their time discussing what they wanted. By the end of May, Lisa had stopped talking about flats and was starting to drop hints about buying a house. Maybe one with a garden, and an extra little bedroom, just in case they should need one in the future.

Ianto was shocked to realize that while the concept of starting a family frightened him, the idea of doing so _with Lisa_ was not altogether unpleasant.

It did bother him a little that he had fallen in love so quickly and so deeply with someone who was not his signum, but what he felt for Lisa was so overwhelming that he couldn’t imagine any predestined mate drawing him away from her. He began to regret having entered his mark into the SoulMatch registry. What if his true signum searched the database and came looking for him? How would he explain to that person that he had already found all that he wanted in Lisa, and wasn’t looking for a soulmate anymore?

The following week, Ianto slipped out during his lunch hour and jogged to the nearby SoulMatch office. He caught the receptionist just as she was about to step out for lunch. She regarded him with a distasteful scowl. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Uh, yes. I was wondering… Is it possible to have myself removed from the database?”

The receptionist’s penciled eyebrows shot up. “Removed?”

“Yes, I don’t want to be listed any more.”

She blew out an exasperated breath and picked up the handset on her desk. “Mr. Hereford? Can you come to the front, please?” The instant a man in an ill-fitting suit appeared, the receptionist called, “I’m going to lunch. Can you help this gentleman?” She slipped out the door before Ianto could speak.

Ianto shook the clammy hand of Mr. Hereford and repeated his request. The man laughed nervously. “Removed?” he echoed. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“Because I’ve met someone, and it’s pretty serious, so I don’t think there’s any need for me to continue looking for my signum.”

Mr. Hereford frowned. “You mean to say the person you’re involved with _isn_ _’t_ your signum?”

“That’s right. But I’m happy with her, and I don’t see any point in continuing to advertise my mark to the world when I’ve already found someone.”

“But surely it won’t last!” Mr. Hereford burst. “Relationships between incompatible individuals rarely work out, in the end.”

Ianto bristled. “Says who, exactly? What about people who are widowed and remarry?” He shook his head. “And anyway, why do I have to defend my choices to you? All I want to know is if you can remove my listing from your database.”

“I’m afraid we can’t,” Mr. Hereford sighed. “You see, it wouldn’t be true to our mission, which is to provide the widest access possible to those searching for a match. If your signum does register with us in the future, it would be a disservice to deny her the chance to locate her match. And besides, if your current relationship ends—I’m just saying, for example—you may wish to be relisted in the future. Once removed, you would need to start over and pay the registration fee again.”

After a few more minutes of arguing, Ianto left in a rage, muttering imprecations against SoulMatch’s greed and lack of service. At least it wasn’t preventing him from moving forward with Lisa. If his signum ever did contact him, he’d simply explain the situation and apologize.

When he returned to Canary Wharf, the building was abuzz with excitement and activity. Kieran caught his arm as he started to head for Yvonne’s office. “Ianto! Have you heard?”

Ianto shook his head. “I was out for lunch. What happened?”

Kieran’s face split into a wide grin. “We did it! After all this time, we finally caught him!”

Ianto was staring at his watch, only half listening. His errand had made him late; he should have attended Yvonne ten minutes ago for the ghost shift. “Caught whom?”

Kieran rolled his eyes. “Who else? _The Doctor!_ ”

Before Ianto could reply, the entire world descended into hell.

* * *

 

Hours later, when the battle had ended and the tower of Canary Wharf was nothing more than a shattered skeleton filled with torn flesh and obscene metal, Ianto huddled in one of the subbasements, cradling Lisa’s mutilated body.

“I’ll fix this,” he breathed against her cheek, rocking compulsively with her metal-heavy frame in his arms. “I’ll find a way. I’ll save you. I promise.”

“Ian… to…” Lisa’s modulated voice stuttered, the emotionless monotone nothing like her usual musical words. “You must… preserve… conversion units…”

“I will,” he whispered through tears, his voice breaking. “Anything you need, Lisa. _Anything._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

He’d thought it would be easy to get hired on at Torchwood Three. In the end, it took days of stalking Captain Jack Harkness, a fight with a Weevil, and a nifty trick with a pteranodon to arouse the captain’s interest.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Ianto had discovered that the captain’s interest—to say nothing of other parts of him—was not so difficult to arouse. Not that Ianto was free to indulge his curiosity, but it was clear from Harkness’s wandering eye and waggling eyebrows that Ianto had not been hired _solely_ for his ability to capture prehistoric animals. He quickly learned to keep his back to the wall and stay out of range of whatever futuristic alien pheromones the captain distilled into the aftershave he claimed not to wear.

The hardest part of Ianto’s strategy was sneaking Lisa into the underground base. He’d planned to do it after hours, when the few staff members went home for the night, but he hadn’t counted on Harkness _living_ there, nor his minimal sleep habits. Eventually Ianto started seeding false rift alerts far away from the Hub, so he could guarantee the team’s absence for periods of more than an hour at a time. He smuggled Lisa in, along with the life-support equipment, brought piece by piece through a set of long-forgotten delivery doors that opened up along Bute Street. Lisa gave him assembly instructions in that eerie mechanical voice, and within a few weeks of his arrival in Cardiff, she was linked into the Hub’s power supply and completely secure in the lower levels. Finally, Ianto could focus on the next stage: Finding an expert to help her.

It took nearly all of Ianto’s compensatory payout from the Canary Wharf disaster to secure Dr. Tanizaki’s aid and travel, depleting most of his savings and leaving him with only a few weeks’ salary as a cushion, but once he’d made the arrangements he felt strangely relieved. He’d done all he could for now, and was that much closer to saving the woman he loved. But Tanizaki wasn’t available to come to Wales immediately, so all Ianto could do was wait and pray that Lisa remained undiscovered.

That part wasn’t difficult. His new teammates largely ignored him, unless they craved coffee or Jack was feeling frisky and leering at him. He was glad that they didn’t watch him too closely—it made caring for Lisa much easier—but after his position of authority as Yvonne’s aide at Torchwood One, being relegated to the status of wallpaper made him feel hollow, somehow. In London, he had been important. Popular. Respected. In Cardiff, he was little more than the caretaker.

Still, between his Torchwood duties and caring for Lisa, he was kept so busy that he had no time for wallowing or introspection. Despite his isolation and loneliness, Ianto hadn’t even _thought_ of his signum since the day Lisa had been party converted—that is, until a brisk afternoon about three months after his arrival at Torchwood Three, when it was brought up in conversation by the least likely of sources.

Ianto had picked up the SUV from its latest overhaul (chasing an alien drone cross-country, Jack had ramped the vehicle over an embankment and skewered the transmission on a steel fence post) and was on his way back to the underground garage when he received a call from Jack ordering him to return to the Hub post-haste. He expected to slide out and let Jack take the wheel, but as soon as he pulled up near the opera house the entire team piled into the vehicle. From the passenger seat, Jack punched in a location on the SUV’s SatNav to check the surface routes. “Don’t spare the horses,” he told Ianto. “Flying saucer just landed inside Cardiff Castle. Almost flattened a bunch of Japanese tourists on bus tour.”

Ianto drove as quickly as he dared, but by the time they reached the castle, police cars were already surrounding the entrance in a flashing blockade that spilled out into the roadway. Ianto dropped the team off near the gate, then circled the block to pull the SUV up on the pavement behind the bus stop so he didn’t contribute to the traffic disaster that was forming on Castle Street. By the time he’d jogged back to the entrance and flashed his credentials to get inside, Jack and Owen had corralled the aliens, and Jack was sternly lecturing them—something about Level Five planets and landing zones—while Toshiko explained to the witnesses in rapid Japanese that the saucer was a promotional stunt for an upcoming film, and Gwen tried to hand out Retcon to the castle staff. Ianto hurried over to help her, because somehow he’d become an expert at convincing people to swallow the little white pills. Jack said it was because he had an honest face.

Ianto knew his face was anything but honest, but he had taken great pains to cultivate that impression since his return to Cardiff. His apparent trustworthiness was the only thing keeping Lisa safe in the bowels of the Hub.

Half an hour later, the situation was sorted. The saucer was on its way and the tourists were brainwashed or Retconned. Basking in their success and a sense of relief that the aliens hadn’t been hostile, the team climbed back into the SUV. Somehow Ianto ended up in the driver’s seat again, and he bumped the vehicle gingerly over the curb as he tried to ease between two buses. It was approaching rush hour, and with Castle Street reduced to a single lane because of the police cars, the bus ahead of them was having trouble nosing out into the gridlock. They sat in the lane beside the bus stop for several minutes.

It didn’t take long before Jack began to grow restless. “We could walk back to the Hub faster than this,” he muttered, drumming his fingers on the dashboard. He slouched back in his seat and stared out the window at the advertising poster decorating the bus stop. “Okay, someone explain this to me.”

Ianto followed his gaze and saw the familiar interlocked hearts. Gwen spoke up from the back seat. “Explain what? SoulMatch? It’s just a signum registry.”

“Yeah, so explain the signum thing.”

Gwen looked shocked. “You don’t know what signums are? Soulmates?”

“Signa,” Toshiko corrected.

“What?”

“It’s a Latin word. The plural of signum is signa. Like datum, data. Millennium, millennia. Curriculum, curricula.”

Gwen stared at her for a moment, then turned back to Jack. “Anyway, _signa_. People with matching birthmarks?”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it, I see the ads everywhere, but I don’t really _get_ it. That’s why I’m asking someone to explain it to me.”

Gwen floundered for a moment. “Well… you know how everyone has birthmarks, right?”

“I don’t,” Jack said, at the same moment that Toshiko said, “Not everyone.”

“Okay, well, most people have birthmarks. And the theory is that for every birthmark, there’s a matching one out there. Those two people are destined to be together. Soulmates.”

Jack frowned. “How exactly does that work? Birthmarks are just random pigmentation. How does your melanin know who you’re going to fall in love with?”

“Whom,” Toshiko corrected him with a smile, then took over the explanation from Gwen. “It all started about thirty years ago. All of a sudden, babies started being born with birthmarks. Not just occasionally, but _every_ child had a mark somewhere on his or her body.”

“That sounds… statistically unlikely.”

Toshiko shrugged. “There was nothing unusual about the marks except their ubiquity. At first, people just thought it was one of those freak coincidences. But about a decade ago, as the first wave of that generation began to reach adulthood, people started noticing a correlation between the birthmarks and the partners they became romantically involved with. A _lot_ of couples had matching birthmarks. Someone started tracking it, and found that about a third of young married or cohabitating couples had matching birthmarks. That number rose with awareness, as people realized that the more similar their marks, the more likely they were to be compatible as a couple. Soon people started trying to seek out their ‘other half,’ as they saw it.”

“And it only took about six months for some bright entrepreneur to capitalize on all this romance and start up paid registries to help people find their soulmates,” Owen sneered, contributing to the conversation for the first time.

Gwen frowned at his bitter tone. “It’s not a bad thing, Owen. That’s how I found Rhys, on MateFindr.” She looked him over curiously. “You have a mark, don’t you? Wouldn’t you like to know who your signum is?”

“I already found mine.”

“You did?” Gwen positively bubbled. “Owen, that’s wonderful! When do we get to meet her?”

“You don’t,” Owen said flatly. “She’s dead.”

The atmosphere was suddenly smothering. Only Jack met Owen’s eyes in the mirror.

A moment of silence passed before Gwen tried to break the tension. “Tosh, you said… a minute ago… you said you don’t have a mark?”

Toshiko shook her head. “I was born in 1975, just before it all started.”

Ianto’s head snapped up. “Wait. I just updated all the personnel records last week, and your birth year was listed as 1981.”

“Oh, right. I, um… had to change it.” Toshiko blushed a little. “I was baiting a sort of computer virus that was only targeting certain birth dates, so in order to trigger it, I had to update my records.” She grinned. “But you believed it? I have to say, I don’t mind people thinking I’m six years younger.”

Gwen turned back to the front seat, and for an instant Ianto thought she would ask him about his mark, but her eyes swung toward Jack. “Jack, I’m going to guess you’re over thirty, so…”

Jack put one hand to his breast and assumed a look of mortification. “Gwen! I’m so offended!”

She rolled her eyes. “But you don’t have a mark, right?”

“Nope. Just wondered what all the hype was about.” He glanced forward as the bus in front of them began to move. “Finally! Put the lights on, Ianto. Let’s make ourselves a path.”

* * *

That evening, Ianto flopped back across his bed, drained from another long day and the stress of dancing around the others to check on Lisa. _Two more weeks_ , he told himself. In two weeks, Dr. Tanizaki would land in Cardiff. He would help cure Lisa, and then Ianto could end this charade and return to some kind of normal life with her. Provided he could remember what _normal_ was supposed to be, after all this time. He could scarcely remember what it had been like to go to work, do his job, and then spend his evenings watching a film with Soren or having dinner with Lisa, his thoughts free and unburdened. Now every waking moment was bent on misleading his coworkers and looking after Lisa, and his nights were filled with dark dreams of Canary Wharf.

The conversation from the SUV came back to him as he disrobed for the night, and Ianto paused to examine his wrist. The mark still seemed to be growing steadily more distinct as time went on, the color separating into stronger lines to form something like a grid within the vaguely mushroom-shaped area of pigmentation. He rarely looked at the mark—most of the time it was hidden beneath his shirt cuffs or the strap of his wristwatch—but now that he examined it, he was sure it was darker than it had been in London.

He wondered what could cause the mark to change. Was it because he was lonely again? He only had that one internet article to suggest that the mark responded to one’s emotional state, but it was as good a theory as any. His coworkers looked through him, and he’d distanced himself from his family and his old school friends. He saw Lisa every day, but in her sedated state she couldn’t converse with him. He was as lonely as he had ever been in London—perhaps more so, now that he’d known real love and had been denied it.

Well, he was too tired to expend much thought on the matter now. Ianto made a mental note to research birthmarks more when he had a free moment at work. For now, he desperately needed to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Ianto could not sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lisa’s body lying broken and lifeless on the floor of the Hub. He saw the barrel of a revolver, Jack’s face contorted in fury behind it. He saw blood and death. He saw an innocent girl, body riddled with bullets, the top of her head torn open. By Lisa.

By _him_.

Ianto shivered and stared at the far wall, his eyes stretched as wide as he could open them. They burned and teared with the effort, but he did not notice. He wasn’t aware of any sound or sensation until something moved into his line of vision.

“Ianto?”

Ianto blinked, the action freeing a pair of tears to roll down his cheeks, and tried to focus on the speaker. “Sir?” Ianto croaked, his voice rough with screaming and sobbing and sheer exhaustion.

“I let myself in,” Jack replied. “Hope that’s okay. Didn’t want to bother you if you were… sleeping, or something.”

He wasn’t really surprised by the captain’s invasion of his privacy. But it didn’t make sense for him to be here. After everything that had happened, Jack wouldn’t want to see him, unlesss… “Are you here to kill me?”

Jack stepped nearer, watching him closely. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“Retcon, then?”

Jack shook his head. “Not unless you want it.”

“I don’t.” Ianto frowned. “Why are you here?”

Jack glanced around the interior of Ianto’s flat, trying to be casual about it, but Ianto could see his eyes flicking minutely, taking in details and searching for hidden weapons or evidence of further betrayal. “I came to check on you.”

Ianto closed his eyes. They burned, but Jack’s presence was enough of a distraction to hold the nightmare images at bay. “I’m not hiding anything else. Nothing to see here.”

“But are you… How are you holding up?”

Ianto would have laughed if he’d had the energy. “What do you care? You’ve never bothered about me.”

Jack flinched at that. “That’s not true. You’re part of my team, and…” He sighed. “And you were right. We didn’t see what you were going through. _I_ didn’t see, and that’s on me. So I want to know how you’re doing now.”

Ianto stared at the wall again. “I’m alive. I survived another Armageddon.” His last words were scarcely more than whisper: “Wish I hadn’t.”

Jack nodded and moved toward a chair. “Do you mind if I sit?” Ianto half-shrugged, and Jack took that as permission. He dragged the chair in front of Ianto and sat facing him. “You know, before Owen joined Torchwood, he had a fiancee. Katie. She died just before I met him, and it… it really tore him up. It was like his whole world fell apart. When I recruited him, I wasn’t sure if he could even do the job anymore, he was so far gone. It took a long time for him to recover.” Jack paused and searched Ianto’s face. Ianto continued to stare impassively, waiting for the punchline, too drained to be irritated by Jack’s attempt at sympathy.

After a moment, Jack sighed and continued. “I didn’t know it at the time, but Katie was Owen’s… what do you call it… Soulmate. Signum, that’s the word. And that’s one of the reasons it was so hard for him when she died. It wasn’t just the grief of losing her; it was like part of his soul was torn out.” He reached to place a hand on Ianto’s arm, but Ianto flinched at his touch, and Jack withdrew. “I can’t say I’ve experienced exactly what you’re going through right now, but I do know what it’s like to lose someone you love, and I can only imagine the pain of losing someone you’re soul-bonded with…”

“She wasn’t,” Ianto rasped.

Jack blinked. “Wasn’t what?”

“She wasn’t my signum.” Ianto looked away. “She was my girlfriend. We met in a pub, and she got me a job at Torchwood, and I asked her out. We knew we weren’t destined, or anything, but I didn’t care because I loved her.”

“Oh.” Jack swallowed. “Well, I know how much it—”

“I loved her,” Ianto continued, his voice growing in strength. “More than anything. I told her I’d do anything to make her happy. We were looking at houses. We had an appointment scheduled with an estate agent, the day they came.”

“Ianto, you—”

“I couldn’t save her. I tried, I did everything I could, but I failed her. And now she’s dead. She’s gone, and it’s my fault. And that girl, Annie, she’s dead too, and it’s all my fault…”

Jack caught him as he broke down and pulled Ianto tight against his shoulder. The wool of the greatcoat scratched Ianto’s raw cheeks as he buried his face in the fabric and sobbed.

* * *

Jack returned every few days to make certain Ianto was still breathing. He often brought food, frequently brought absurd stories of Torchwood’s daily adventures, and seemed content to let Ianto remain silent as long as he needed to. Ianto wasn’t much of a talker even when he was feeling at his best, and during the month of his suspension, he was decidedly at his worst.

Jack, for his part, seemed to understand Ianto’s need to simply _exist_ without exerting himself to make conversation. Jack spoke of trivial things to fill the awkward space between them and left pauses for Ianto to contribute if he felt up to it, but he never pressed for answers about Lisa or Ianto’s state of mind. Ianto was grateful for that, even though he wasn’t able to express the sentiment in words.

But as time passed, the internal pressure built, and soon Ianto felt the need to talk to _someone_. Not Jack; there was too much history there, and though he found he was actually beginning to enjoy Jack’s company, he didn’t want to cross any lines in their professional relationship. He needed someone who was a skilled listener, who was discreet, and whom he would only ever have to see on his own terms.

When he found Mandy, she seemed the perfect candidate.

Mandy was the proprietor of The Ferret, a tiny pub nestled away in the streets of Radyr. Like all good bartenders, she was willing to lend an ear and respect her customers’ privacy, and she seemed to take a special interest in Ianto. Ianto soon developed a habit of wandering to The Ferret during the afternoon, when the pub was less busy. He’d have a pint, speak with Mandy about his troubles, and be back home early enough to answer the door if Jack happened to drop by. The routine was comforting, and Ianto counted himself lucky to have found two people to spend time with. They might not be genuine _friends_ , not yet, but they seemed concerned with his wellbeing and helped to ease his loneliness.

Mandy was the first to broach the question of his moving on. It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon, three weeks into his suspension, and Ianto had been nursing his beer at the bar for the better part of an hour. After waving farewell to a pair of regulars, Mandy fixed Ianto with a challenging look. “So what are you doing with your life?” she asked abruptly.

Ianto’s head jerked up, and he nearly glanced around to confirm she was speaking with him. “I… I’m sorry?”

Mandy picked up a glass and wiped it with a rag. “You come here every day and tell me bits of your story, but that’s all. What are you planning to do? Where are you going from here?”

“I…” Ianto swallowed to buy himself time to think. “I don’t really know. I’ve been suspended, so until my boss tells me I can come back to work, I can’t really do much of anything.”

“Except come to your local for a pint.” Mandy shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the business, but you’re a bright fellow, Ianto. Clever, young, good-looking… There’s no reason you should be moping your life away in here.” She circled the glass in the air to indicate the interior of The Ferret. “You could pick up some part-time work. You could go to a club and meet some people your own age. Maybe even go on a date.”

Ianto bristled at that. “My girlfriend _just died_. And you want me to start dating?”

“Of course not. I don’t mean run right out and find someone else to replace her. I mean go make _friends_. Get to know people around here. Find a support group that doesn’t consist solely of one middle-aged barmaid.” She cocked her head at him. “Do you have any family?”

Ianto nodded reluctantly. “My mum and sister, and her family. But we’re not really close.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to fix that. Go have tea with them. Tell them about your life.” Ianto rolled his eyes, and Mandy slapped the rag down on the counter. “Don’t give me that. I know what you’re thinking—that they wouldn’t understand. But let me tell you, they _can_ _’t_ understand until you start opening up to them. And I get the impression you don’t like to open up to anyone.”

“That’s not true,” Ianto blurted automatically.

Mandy raised an eyebrow. “Name three people you share personal things with, who truly know the _real_ you. I don’t count,” she added.

Ianto frowned at his glass. “I shared everything with Lisa. She knew me better than anyone.”

“Past tense. I mean now.”

He thought for a few seconds. “My flatmate, Soren, back in London. We were mates.”

“Is that the same flatmate you refused to tell what you did for a living?” Mandy shook her head. “Besides, I’m guessing you don’t talk to him often nowadays.”

Ianto conceded that point. “There’s Jack—my boss. He comes round to my place two or three times a week, and we talk.”

“What do you talk about?”

“Well… work, mostly.” Ianto’s eyes bored into the counter.

“I rest my case.” Mandy leaned forward on folded arms. “Look, Ianto, I’ll be here when you need me, but I don’t think I’m enough. If you don’t stand up and get back out in the world, you’ll just sit here and stagnate, and I don’t think either of us will be happy with that ending.” She hesitated, then leaned closer. “And if you really _don_ _’t_ want to go back out there, if you don’t think you can pick up that life again, then I may be able to offer you an alternative. But will you at least _try_? For me?”

Ianto nodded and mumbled an affirmative, then finished his drink. It was time to go home and wait for Jack—if he was even coming.


	5. Chapter 5

Two days later, Ianto found himself standing in front of the impressive glass-and-steel tower that housed the main offices of SoulMatch International, the centerpiece in a revitalization project the city of Cardiff had launched more than two decades ago. He wasn’t sure why he had come; he had no interest in forming a new relationship, and he was certain he would never be worthy of anything like happiness. He knew he wasn’t capable of falling in love again, not after Lisa. Not after what losing her had done to his soul.

Perhaps, he reasoned, he was here to punish himself. To confirm that he wasn’t meant for happiness. There was no soul in the universe that was right for him, and even if there were, he wouldn’t deserve it.

Or perhaps Mandy was right, and his entire future hinged on his ability to pick himself up and move forward, guilt be damned.

Ianto’s mobile chimed in his pocket, and he checked it to find a voicemail notification. The call log indicated it was his mother. Again. That notification was immediately followed by a text message from the same number, informing him that she’d left him a message and he should check his voicemail. Ianto groaned. _And Mandy wanted me to reconnect with my family?_ He shook his head and powered down the phone, then marched through the large revolving door into the building.

He was surprised by the row of security desks manned by uniformed guards stretched across the entry. After giving his name and being checked in, he was greeted by a personable aide who escorted him to the correct elevator, then ushered into a waiting room by a cheerful receptionist who offered him tea. In degrees of customer service, Cardiff left the London branch in the dust. Ianto supposed it was something to do with Cardiff being the corporate headquarters—or perhaps just the difference in attitude between the citizenries of Wales and London.

He soon found himself seated in a roomy office, facing a membership agent whose desk nameplate read _Ms. Evelyn Braithwaite._  A brass plaquebeside itlabeled her as a recipient of the Five Star Service Award. She was certainly dressed for success, with a costly suit, patent leather heels, and a heavy silver wrist cuff that caught the light as she extended her hand to Ianto.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones,” Ms. Braithwaite greeted him warmly. “How can I help you today?”

Ianto realized he had no answer for that, and fumbled for words. “I… I suppose I just wanted to check and see if any matches had turned up. It’s been nearly two years since I ran a search.”

“I can certainly help you with that today. Do you have your membership card?”

Ianto had to turn out his entire wallet before he found the little laminated card crumpled in the bottom of the coin compartment. Ms. Braithwaite smoothed it on her desk and scanned the barcode on the back, then spent a few minutes typing and clicking at her computer terminal. At last she sat back and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, but I’m not finding any matches. It’s possible that your signum has not yet registered.”

Ianto nodded, a vague sense of disappointment warring with the searing vindication that filled him. “I just thought it was worth a try. Thank you.”

He reached across the desk for his card, and Ms. Braithwaite gave a small exclamation of surprise as the movement exposed the mark on his wrist. She glanced at her screen, then back at Ianto. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Your mark _is_ on your wrist, correct?”

Ianto nodded and tugged back his sleeve to show it again. “Why?”

“Well, quite frankly, Mr. Jones, it looks nothing like the image we have on file.” She swiveled the monitor toward him, showing a picture of a faint tan splotch with soft edges blending into his pale skin. Ianto compared it to the mark on his wrist, which had sharper edges and a distinct geometric pattern emerging inside the shape. “I think we should rescan it for a better chance of matching.”

Ianto chewed his lip and tamped down the spark of hope that threatened to derail his self-abasement. “Is there a fee for that?”

Ms. Braithwaite squinted at the screen. “Usually there is, but…” Her eyes flicked to Ianto, and she flashed him a smile. “In this case, I think I can run it through as a faulty image on our end, so you aren’t charged for it.”

The scanning process was quick and painless, and within a quarter of an hour Ianto found himself drumming his fingers anxiously as Ms. Braithwaite ran another search. When it again came up negative, he tried to hide his disappointment.

“But your odds of a match are much better, now that we have more up-to-date records,” she assured him. “At least we have your current contact information, so if a match should appear, we can reach you.”

Ianto could almost see the pound signs dancing about her computer. “I thought the alert service required a paid subscription?”

Ms. Braithwaite shrugged. “If a signum wishes us to contact a match directly on their behalf, they can pay for an alert to be sent to you. It’s a one-time charge of £3.99, very reasonable.”

Ianto thought that a fairly high cost for a single text message, but he supposed SoulMatch had to pay for their extensive worldwide advertising somehow. “And if the mark keeps changing, I suppose I’ll have to come in again for another scan?”

She nodded. “Though it’s rare that a mark changes so drastically. I’ve seen them intensify over time, of course, but yours really seems to be forming a more complex pigmentation array than most.”

Ianto traced the shape on his wrist. “I’ve been wondering about that. What causes it to change?”

Ms. Braithwaite switched on a deal-closing smile that explained how she’d gotten to be a Five Star recipient. “If you’d like, I can let you speak with one of our researchers. They’d be happy to explain all the mechanics to you.”

Ianto had nothing better to do with his time as long as he was on suspension, so he accepted the offer. Ms. Braithwaite escorted him through the office building. It was a long walk, during which he had ample opportunity to admire the avant-garde architecture of the SoulMatch tower. The building was a giant cylinder, with sunlit offices all around the perimeter and a massive water sculpture in the central atrium.

“We’re very proud of our water tower,” Ms. Braithwaite told him, turning their walk into a guided tour. “Sixty-eight feet tall. It was the tallest in Wales, until they built that eyesore outside the opera house. You know the one I mean?”

Ianto resisted the urge to laugh. “Yes, I know the one.” He admired the geometric tower, which was shaped like a stack of huge boxes arranged in a helix. A jet of water shot from a bowl atop the highest box, with the water flowing over the rim and pouring down the sides of the sculpture. Metal plates shifted beneath the flowing water, producing a melodic accompaniment to the sound of the water itself. Ianto had to admit, it was more interesting to look at than the glossy slab in the center of the Hub.

He leaned over the railing to see more fountains spraying water over the boxes from a large pool at the base, located at the lobby level. At the sight of the pool, a stray memory of flickering lights, Lisa’s metallic voice, and sinking into the Hub’s tidal basin flashed through his mind, and he jerked away. He closed his eyes and waited for his pulse to return to normal.

Ms. Braithwaite didn’t seem to notice his distress. “The sculpture is not only decorative, it contributes to the health and wellbeing of our staff and visitors. It keeps the air fresh and humidified, and the sound is so soothing. We all like to keep our office doors open to listen to it.” She pointed high above, where light filtered through panes of glass at the top of the atrium. “And our building is one of the greenest in Wales, as well. We take advantage of natural light as much as possible. Our entire roof and the south-facing wall are fitted with solar panels, to help offset our carbon footprint. Saving the planet for future generations, you know.” She steered him toward the lift, which opened at a wave of her keycard. “Here we are.”

They rode to one of the highest floors of the building, and Ms. Braithwaite escorted Ianto down a hallway, past a glass window through which a team of white-coated technicians could be seen working in a high-tech lab, and finally to a door labeled “Dr. Samuel D. Peters, Head of BioMatch Research.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow at the title, but followed Ms. Braithwaite obediently through the door. He was handed off to a portly man in a white lab coat who pumped his hand enthusiastically.

“Ms. Braithwaite sent ahead your file, Mr. Jones,” Dr. Peters said, gesturing to his computer. “I must say, you have the makings of a very unusual case.”

“Unusual?” Ianto frowned. “You mean there’s a reason I don’t have a match?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that!” Dr. Peters hastily assured him. “I mean that you’re a perfect subject for our current research study. We’re examining the development of biological attractors and their impact on mate selection. You are the perfect storm of research factors: You have an unusually complex birthmark, one which has been observed to change over time, and you haven’t yet found your signum. We could really use you in our study.”

Ianto shook his head. “Look, I just want to know what’s happening to me. To my mark, I mean. Why it’s getting darker.”

“And that’s exactly what we’re hoping to prove with our study,” Dr. Peters pressed. “We have some preliminary research that indicates the marks intensify when the subject experiences feelings of isolation or a lack of meaningful connection with others, but it’s based largely on anecdotal testimony, and we don’t have any concrete evidence of the effects on the mark after such a subject _does_ find their signum. Hence our need for the research study, to prove the correlation.” He hovered at the edge of his chair, looking hopeful. “Would you be interested in joining the study? There’s no cost to you, and naturally we’d make every effort to locate your signum—including universal worldwide registry access and our advanced targeted algorithms, again at no additional cost to you.”

In the back of his mind, Mandy’s voice played: _Stand up and get back out in the world_. But Ianto wasn’t certain he was ready for this so soon after losing Lisa, and there was also the question of his suspension and uncertain employment. “Might I have some time to think about it?” he temporized. “My job is sort of… I’m not sure what my schedule will be for the next few months.”

“Certainly, certainly! I understand. It’s an ongoing long-term study, so there’s no rush.” Dr. Peters swept a glossy business card from a dish on his desk. “Here’s my card. If you want to participate in the study, or if you decide you’re really serious about finding your signum, just give me a call any time.”

Ianto left the office after another firm handshake, and stepped out to find Ms. Braithwaite waiting to escort him downstairs. “Was Dr. Peters able to answer your questions?”

Ianto shrugged. “He’d like me to join some sort of research study.”

Ms. Braithwaite clapped her palms together. “That’s excellent! He’d only invite you to join if he thought you were a good candidate for long-term tracking. That means he thinks there’s a very good chance of finding your signum.”

“But how would he know? All he had was a picture of my mark. No history or anything.”

Ms. Braithwaite tossed him a wink. “There’s a lot more to finding matches than just looking at pictures, Mr. Jones. Our system is backed by millions of pounds of scientific and medical research, and we’ve identified trends in the shape, color and complexity of marks that the rest of the world hasn’t caught on to yet. Believe me, if Dr. Peters thinks you’re a good candidate, that means there’s something very special about you and your signum.”

She left him at the lobby with another dazzling smile and her own business card, and Ianto started toward home, turning what he’d learned over in his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

Ianto was still staring at Dr. Peters’ card when he reached his front door, so deep in thought that he almost ran into Jack before he saw him leaning against the doorjamb. “Oh!” Ianto stumbled backward. “Jack! Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming. Have you been here long?”

The scowl on Jack’s face and the grease-soaked food bags at his feet answered that question. “Where were you?” he demanded. “I tried calling and texting, but you didn’t answer. I was starting to worry.”

“Right! Sorry, I forgot I switched off my mobile earlier.” Ianto hastily pulled it out and turned it back on. “I… had an appointment.”

Jack snatched the business card from Ianto’s hand and glanced at the name. “A doctor appointment?” His brow furrowed in concern. “Anything serious?”

Ianto grabbed the card back and shoved it into his pocket. “No, nothing serious, and not really any of your business,” he snapped.

For an instant Jack looked shocked and even hurt, and Ianto immediately regretted his tone. After all, Jack had come all this way to check on him, and had even brought him dinner. Ianto ducked his head and unlocked the door. “You could have waited inside if you wanted,” he said in a more civil tone. “I know you can get in without a key.”

“And I know you value your privacy,” Jack replied, the worry still evident on his face. “Though if another five minutes had passed without hearing from you, I’d have kicked the door in to make sure you hadn’t—” He broke off abruptly and looked away.

Ianto wasn’t sure which surprised him more—that Jack apparently still thought him a suicide risk, or that he seemed so upset by the very thought of it. “I’m fine, Jack,” he said quietly. “I was just late getting home. I’m sorry I worried you.”

Jack met his gaze for a long, searching moment before breaking the eye contact. “Well. If you haven’t eaten, I brought Chinese.” He bent to collect the bags. “It might need reheated.”

“Thanks, I’m famished.” Ianto led the way to the kitchen, where he poured a glass of water for Jack and collected a beer for himself from the refrigerator. “What do we have tonight?”

“House special. Seafood stir fry, no scallops this time.”

Ianto turned to stare at him. Even Lisa hadn’t known how much he disliked scallops, as she had loved them. “How did you know?”

Jack’s mouth quirked with amusement. “Because last time, you ate around the scallops and tried to hide them under a spring roll so I wouldn’t notice.”

Ianto flushed and handed Jack his glass of water. “Thank you for bringing dinner. Shall I set the table, or would you rather eat on the sofa?”

“Sofa sounds more relaxing.” Jack ran observant eyes over Ianto’s tense posture. “You look like you could use some relaxing.”

Ianto released a breath. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Jack set down the food and rested a hand on Ianto’s shoulder. “Are you really okay? You seem… stressed.”

“It’s been a long day,” Ianto sighed, then shook his head. “A long month.” Jack squeezed his shoulder in sympathy, and suddenly Ianto wanted to break down and cry all over again. “Actually, this whole year…”

“I know,” Jack whispered. Ianto met his eyes and was astonished to see his own pain mirrored there. Jack wasn’t offering empty platitudes; he really _understood_. Ianto didn’t resist when Jack pulled him against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around Ianto’s shoulders. Ianto leaned gratefully into the embrace, taking comfort in the human contact he’d missed. A tear slipped down his cheek and soaked into the wool of Jack’s greatcoat.

“I lost someone there, too,” Jack whispered after several minutes of silence. “A very dear friend of mine was visiting Canary Wharf that day. She didn’t make it out.”

Ianto tipped his head so that his forehead rested against Jack’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. He inhaled, intending to say more, but the overwhelming scent of Jack’s aftershave—or pheromones, or whatever it was—drove the words from his mind.

“Me, too,” Jack sighed. He gave Ianto’s shoulders one final squeeze and let him go, though he kept his fingers resting lightly on Ianto’s upper arms. “Better?”

Ianto smiled and scrubbed the tears from his eyes. “Yeah, thanks.” He took a breath and blew it out slowly to steady himself and bring his mind back after that intense moment in Jack’s arms. “Should we… um… food?” Flustered, he turned to take two plates from the cabinet. “Why don’t you pop it in the microwave to reheat, and I’ll take these things into the living room.”

Ianto fled the kitchen and set the plates on the coffee table by the sofa. Jack would be in the kitchen for another minute at least, judging by the beeping of the microwave number pad, so Ianto allowed himself a moment. He closed his eyes and recalled how good it had felt to be held again. How nice it had been to be so close to _Jack_. How the exotic sandalwood-and-leather scent that always clung to him had arrested Ianto’s senses, warming him through.

He pulled himself together before Jack appeared with a steaming bowl of stir fry and a carton of spring rolls. “Dinner is served,” Jack quipped in a stilted accent, sliding the food onto the coffee table. He offered Ianto a pair of chopsticks before scooping a generous portion onto his own plate and flopping down at one end of the sofa. Ianto sat at the other end, still acutely aware of the space between them, and helped himself to a spring roll.

“So,” Jack asked through a mouthful of what was probably shrimp, “do you want to talk about it?”

Ianto took the time to swallow his own bite of food—it never hurt to lead by example, even if encouraging good table manners was futile with Jack—and raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Wherever you were today. Whatever’s upset you.” Jack watched him over his plate. “You don’t have to, but I’ll listen if you need to get it off your chest.”

Ianto sighed and put down his chopsticks. “It’s nothing, really. Just… You remember last month, after the thing at the castle, when we were talking about signa?”

Jack squinted as he thought back. “The soulmate thing?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

Ianto cleared his throat. “Back before I met Lisa, I was… in the market, you might say, so I registered with SoulMatch. I stopped in at the office today, and they seem to think there’s something unusual about my mark. Different from normal.”

Jack shot him a cheeky grin. “Why, is it someplace embarrassing?”

Ianto rolled his eyes, though he knew Jack was just trying to lighten the mood. “Not at all. But it’s changing, and no one seems to know why.”

Jack’s amusement melted into concern. “Changing? How? Is it hurting you?”

“No, nothing like that. And the doctor I spoke with doesn’t think it’s a problem.”

“But it’s upset you.”

Ianto sighed. “I know it shouldn’t bother me, but sometimes it feels like… like there’s no one out there for me. I lost Lisa, and I’ve never been able to find my signum, and now maybe I don’t even have a proper mark. It’s like the universe is telling me I’m destined to be alone.”

“Ianto, humans fell in love and thrived as a species for thousands of years without matchmaking algorithms or special symbols. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“But humans _now_ have clearly designated soulmates. What if I have none? What if Lisa and I weren’t meant to be together, and I’ve destroyed my chance at happiness because of the mistakes I made? Perhaps that’s the reason my mark is changing now…”

Jack touched his arm in sympathy. “Ianto, it’s only been a few weeks. No one expects you to have your life in order, much less have found some mystical soulmate in that amount of time. You don’t need to put that kind of pressure on yourself.”

Another sigh escaped. “I know. It’s not rational; it’s just a feeling.” He poked at his food, his appetite waning.

Jack watched him, then set his own plate aside. “Would you mind if…” He trailed off, but Ianto nodded for him to continue. “Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“Your birthmark, or whatever it’s called.”

It was an odd request, but Ianto didn’t really mind. He unbuttoned his sleeve and turned back the cuff to show the mark on his wrist. Jack examined it, then let out a short laugh.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “What’s funny?”

“Sorry, I just… I mean, it’s kind of a strange coincidence, don’t you think?”

Ianto looked from the mark to Jack. “I don’t understand.”

Jack gently took his arm and turned it so Ianto was viewing the mark at a different angle than usual. “Don’t you see it? It looks like the Torchwood T.”

Ianto stared at his wrist in shock. He’d never noticed before, but there was a distinct similarity between the shape of his mark and the stenciled logo that appeared on every surface in the Hub. The long triangle was the tapered upright of the letter T, while the perpendicular stroke across the end formed the crossbar. The faint mottled pattern emerging in the pigmentation was not distinct enough yet to represent hexagons, but it did call the geometric design to mind.

Ianto swore aloud, drawing another chuckle from Jack. “I doubt it means anything,” Jack assured him. “Maybe it’s just me. After you stare at that symbol on every surface for eighteen hours a day you’re bound to start seeing it everywhere.”

“I suppose,” Ianto sighed. Jack was stroking his thumb softly over the mark as he held Ianto’s arm, and the gentle sensation melted away any anger or frustration he might have felt at the revelation. “You’re right, though. It does look like it.”

“Since you’re branded with the company logo, I guess that means you’re stuck working for Torchwood.” Jack’s smile faltered, and he glanced uncertainly at Ianto. “That is, if you still want to.”

“I haven’t anywhere else to go.”

Jack watched him closely. “If you wanted, you could start over…”

Ianto shook his head firmly. “I don’t want Retcon. I want to remember her, remember the things I’ve done. And I do want to try to put things right, as much as I can.”

“All right.” Jack stood and collected their plates.

Ianto looked up in surprise. “Are you finished already? You haven’t had very much.”

“No, and neither have you. I’m reheating these again, and then I’m going to make sure you finish a complete meal. You’re still too thin.” Jack inclined his head toward the television across the room. “You could pick out a movie, if you want. It’s been a while since we watched something over dinner.”

Ianto shook his head thoughtfully as he wandered over to the shelf of DVDs. Maybe Mandy was right about his need to reconnect with the outside world, but she had been completely wrong in her assessment of Jack. Jack understood him. Paid attention to him. Looked after him. _Knew_ him.

Ianto dug Dr. Peters’ business card out of his pocket and tossed it into a basket of old papers and junk mail in the corner. He didn’t need a multi-billion-pound organization to seek out someone he could open up to. He had found someone right here, without even looking.


	7. Chapter 7

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Ianto turned at the touch of Jack’s warm hand on his shoulder. Technically Jack hadn’t given him permission to return to work, but he had grown restless during the final week of his suspension and was anxious to start moving forward with his life again, so he’d taken a chance and shown up early at the Hub. If Jack wanted to yell at him and send him home, at least it would happen before the others arrived.

Jack himself was only half-dressed and looked a bit ragged, and Ianto was reminded of the grief he’d seen in Jack’s eyes the night they’d held each other in his kitchen. No one but Ianto seemed to know how Jack suffered in silence—and Jack had never taken the weeks off to recover that he had granted Ianto after Lisa’s death. “Neither should you,” Ianto returned.

Jack gave him a tiny nod of understanding, and with that, the air was cleared between them. “What have you got?”

Ianto turned back to the monitor he’d been using. “Funny sort of weather patterns,” he began.

* * *

They fell back into their routine as though they’d never left. Ianto made coffee, fetched lunch, organized the archives, and cleaned up after his messy coworkers. The others didn’t ignore him as they had before, but they regarded him with wariness, which he supposed was only natural after his betrayal. Owen, Gwen and Toshiko seemed reluctant to discuss mission details in his presence, which was absurd, as they all knew he would file their reports later and have full access to any case-related information. They were polite to him, and Toshiko brought him a coffee now whenever she made the food run, but no one asked how he was feeling.

No one mentioned Lisa.

Jack treated him with the same casual familiarity they’d developed during his suspension, but the level of intimacy in their conversations that Ianto had come to cherish vanished when they were at the Hub. Jack stopped visiting in the evenings, and Ianto once again found himself lonely and suffering with no one to speak to. Soon he found himself wondering if he’d imagined the sincere, vulnerable Jack he thought he’d met. At Torchwood, Jack was the same overbearing, results-oriented captain he’d always seemed.

Through all this, Mandy was Ianto’s only confidant, and he found himself stopping regularly at The Ferret after work, even late at night when he should have been snatching a few hours’ sleep. He came to rely on her advice and friendship, and when he attempted suicide after the living nightmare with the cannibals, it was Mandy he called. She’d saved his life that night.

“I don’t know why I keep hoping,” he confessed to her the next afternoon. He had the day off from work to recover from his injuries, and she had insisted he come to the pub so she could keep an eye on him, though his stomach was so twisted in knots he couldn’t even manage to swallow the drink she offered him. “Every time I think I’ve found something good in my life, it’s ripped away from me.”

Mandy nodded sympathetically. “What about your boss? I thought you said you were getting along well, a couple weeks ago.”

Ianto shook his head. “He’s not the same at work. I thought we were really becoming friends, but…” He sighed deeply. “Now he just treats me like everyone else. Only less so. He doesn’t let me work on the important projects, or ask my advice about anything. I just clean up the office.”

“Well, maybe you should prove you’re something more,” Mandy suggested.

Ianto frowned. “How?”

“I don’t know. Impress him. Go above and beyond. Get yourself noticed.” She grinned. “That, or make him wildly jealous. Go snog someone else right in front of him.”

Ianto’s face flushed hot. “What?”

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Ianto. It’s obvious you fancy him, from the way you talk about him.”

“I don’t. I really don’t. It’s not like that at all. We’re just… He’s my boss, and that’s all.” Ianto took a gulp of his drink, which was something stronger than the beer he usually ordered. The alcohol burned his throat, and he coughed.

“Mm-hmm.” Mandy didn’t look convinced.

“He’s not my signum, anyway,” Ianto continued. “Jack doesn’t even have a mark. He’s too old.”

“And you’ve sworn off seeing anyone who isn’t your soulmate?”

Ianto looked away. “After what happened with Lisa, I don’t really want to get involved with anyone else.”

“Sounds lonely,” Mandy opined, then shrugged. “Well, as far as your boss goes, you can still do something to impress him. Take on an extra project at work, or something. Show him you’re capable of more than he thinks.” She leaned across the bar to tap Ianto on the nose. “Because you are.”

* * *

Ianto kept her words in mind over the next few days, and decided to prove himself by tackling a string of seemingly-unrelated missing persons cases that the others had relegated to low priority. Investigating felt good and useful, and he was making progress on the case. He was beginning to feel more confident and positive about his abilities, until he made a breakthrough.

One that implicated the only constant support remaining in his life.

He spent the next day wrestling with his conscience over the evidence he had uncovered. All signs pointed to The Ferret as the scene of the crime. But Mandy had been his friend. Mandy had given him advice when he needed it most. Mandy had _saved his life,_ rushing to his side and throwing out the pills Ianto had tried to swallow to end his pain. How could she be responsible for the deaths or disappearances of so many people?

As he drifted through the Hub, collecting the detritus from his coworkers' snacks, the stress twisted his insides until his entire body ached. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised at this turn of events; after all, his entire existence could be boiled down to a succession of good things being wrenched violently out of his life, leaving him alone and abandoned. Mandy was just the latest in a series of such tragedies. _I can't imagine the time when this isn't everything_ , he realized as he mechanically bagged a crumpled serviette. His stomach crawled, and he flinched at the physical pain. _Feels like this is all I am now_.

From time to time, he caught a glimpse of Jack across the Hub and wondered if he could confide in him. A few weeks ago, Jack would have sat with him on the sofa and offered him a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on—sometimes literally. But somehow, here, now, things were different between them. The Hub—Torchwood itself, perhaps—had slotted them neatly back into their roles of boss and employee. The same roles that had put them on opposite sides of a gun when Lisa's life was at stake. No; he couldn't confide in Jack. Even if there had been the opportunity, Ianto realized he no longer wanted to—not while he was the charity case. Not while the others still looked on him as the prodigal, graciously permitted to serve them to atone for his mistakes.

Besides, Torchwood had enough problems to deal with: Toshiko’s new girlfriend turned out to be an alien serial killer, and Jack, in his typical merciless fashion, had sentenced her to death. right in front of poor Tosh with no regard for her feelings. Ianto could not help drawing a connection to Lisa, and he wondered how he could ever have thought he and Jack were growing close.

* * *

The case came to a head that night in the basement of The Ferret, with Jack and Ianto facing down Mandy and her alien partner, the Saviour. The nightmare unfolded before him, and Ianto bent his head and plowed into the fray, as he'd always done. Such was his life now.

Or was it? Mandy had made him an offer... A new start...

For a moment, Ianto considered giving up on his mess of an existence here and going through the portal to the new life Mandy had promised.

For a moment, he gave in to temptation and took his revenge on the heartless man who had caused him so much pain.

For a moment, he considered leaving Jack to rot in slavery on an alien planet.

For a moment, he considered ending it all.

But those moments did not define him, and by the end of the night, he’d rescued Jack, eliminated the Saviour, and spared Mandy, giving her the slimmest of second chances. After all, he owed her that much.

* * *

When it was all over, Ianto sat in the SUV with Jack. He absently stroked the mark on his wrist as they talked—argued—through their differences. His stomach writhed. The pain hadn't subsided after the evening’s events; if anything, it had intensified, and Ianto was nearing another explosion.

Jack, for his part, wasn’t letting him off easy. “You’re my friend,” he snapped in a tone that suggested anything but. “You’re not just my employee. And you keep lying to me, and you just nearly killed me, and you know, just _occasionally_ your coffee isn’t as good as we say it is, but you’re still—”

“Stop the car!” Ianto ordered.

Reflexively, Jack swerved to the curb and put on the brake. “Why, what is it?”

Ianto found he was shaking so hard he could scarcely speak. “My… _coffee_?”

Jack stared in shock, then tried and failed to suppress a laugh. “Okay,” he half-giggled, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, calm down. Obviously, most of the time, it is fantastic. But just occasionally, it’s not your best work.”

In an instant, watching him backpedal and lose control of the conversation while trying not to laugh at the absurdity of what they were arguing over, Ianto found that other Jack again. The one who had opened up to him and extended such compassion during his suspension. The one who had held him while he cried, told him silly stories about aliens to cheer him when he was melancholy, and paid attention to what foods he liked. The one who had revealed the tiniest glimpse of his own suffering and heartbreak, just to let Ianto know he wasn’t alone.

That Jack had been there all along, hiding beneath the impervious facade of their brave leader—just as Ianto had concealed his own vulnerability behind a shell of “sir” and suits and sarcasm.

“Ianto, you are my friend,” Jack professed again. "No matter what you do, I'm here for you."

This time, Ianto believed him enough to confess what he’d been suffering alone. It hurt to acknowledge the pain—and, if he were honest, it frightened him to share something so deeply rooted in his soul—but Jack understood. He clasped Ianto’s hands, offering his support. “I would do anything in the world to take that pain away,” Jack said softly.

One thing came immediately to mind, but Ianto pushed the image back. Even if they had found some common ground, Jack wasn’t his signum. Jack was just his boss. Hadn’t he told Mandy as much?

But then again, Mandy had pretended to be his friend while planning to sell him into slavery, which made his insightful conversations with her much less meaningful in retrospect.

Ianto glanced at the mark on his upturned wrist, juxtaposed beside Jack’s strong fingers. He’d been searching for a match for years, with no success. If he continued waiting for his soulmate, suffering alone through this pain and the trials of Torchwood all the while, there might be nothing left of his soul to give when he _did_ find his match.

Meanwhile, here was Jack beside him—a devastatingly attractive man who at the moment exuded warmth and genuine concern, and who had made no secret of his own carnal interest in Ianto over months of casual flirting. In the enclosed space of the SUV, bolstered by adrenalin and the high of victory, Jack’s exotic pheromone-laced scent overwhelmed Ianto’s senses. Jack may not be his soulmate, but he promised connection and pleasure and escape. And if ever Ianto had needed one night of mindless release, this was the night.

It took very little time for Ianto to make his decision. He tore his eyes away from the mark on his wrist and fixed them on Jack.

“Kiss me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skimmed over events at the Ferret because I think most Janto fans have already listened to _Broken_ (who am I kidding, I think we all probably have it _memorized_ by now), which deals with how Jack and Ianto transitioned from enemies to lovers during the first series. If you haven’t listened to the episode and are wondering who Mandy is and what just happened, run right over to bigfinish.com and download the episode!


	8. Chapter 8

When Ianto was at university, he’d had a mate—Nathan—who was really into sports cars and racing. He had pored over car magazines and talked about the latest models to anyone who would listen. For Nathan’s birthday one year, his friends had all pooled their money and got him a drive around a local racetrack in a stock racing car. Ianto had been one of the lucky few who had gotten to ride along for a lap or two. He could still recall the G-force pressing him against the seat, the roar of the engine, the thrill that set his pulse pounding in his throat as the outside world flew by, too fast to see. He remembered giving up trying to track their path or their speed, and just throwing his head back to enjoy the ride.

Being with Jack Harkness, he reflected a few weeks into their relationship, was a lot like riding in that race car. It was intense and exhilarating, being caught up in a veritable force of nature. When he was with Jack, he was overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions he felt, and surrendered to them with complete abandon. And like a high-end engine, Jack’s performance was _off the charts_.

But just like a passenger in a speeding vehicle, Ianto was acutely aware that he was not in control of whatever was happening between himself and Jack. Oh, certainly, he initiated their liaisons sometimes, and occasionally they ended up going back to his place to use the more comfortable bed instead of bruising themselves against the furniture in Jack’s office, but Ianto had no illusions about the fact that he was there entirely on Jack’s terms.

Being with Jack was an educational experience, as well. Not only did Ianto learn that there were lots _more_ things you could do with a stopwatch than his linear brain had ever conceived of (as well as a few facts about human anatomy that he had never set out to discover), but he was also learning about Jack himself. As a sex partner, Jack was eager and attentive, and gave as much pleasure as he received, but he could switch that passion off and on like a lamp. Jack could entice Ianto into his office after hours, have his way with him, and ten minutes later be back to doing paperwork at the very same desk he’d bent Ianto over, while Ianto was still trembling and dazed from the intensity of their encounter.

Jack continued to be warm and caring, as he’d been during Ianto’s suspension, but the doors that guarded his private thoughts and feelings remained chained and barred. It seemed to Ianto that there was something preventing Jack from opening himself to a deeper emotional connection, though whether that was some reservation he had about Ianto or just an attribute of Jack’s guarded nature, Ianto wasn’t sure. Jack never talked about himself beyond the occasional ribald tall tale, and when the man slept—which was rarely—he preferred to do so alone.

It was for this reason that Ianto counted it a small victory in their developing relationship when he convinced Jack to stay the night at his place. They’d been hunting down a stray Weevil—their third sighting since they had broken the fight ring—and it was well past midnight when they finally chased it back into the sewers. The SUV had been parked closer to Ianto’s than to the Hub, so Ianto had lured Jack home with the promise of a hot shower and a quick shag. After delivering on the first two, Ianto lulled Jack to sleep with a much-needed shoulder massage, then lay close to him for the remainder of the night.

His motivations had been mostly selfish, Ianto reflected when he woke early the next morning, still pressed against Jack’s warm back. His sleep was still plagued by occasional nightmares—Canary Wharf, Lisa, cannibals—and he had found that Jack’s presence calmed him and helped him sleep through the night. _A security blanket with benefits_ , Ianto thought wryly.

Ianto propped himself up on one arm and considered the man in his bed. _How did it come to this?_ he wondered. After losing Lisa, he’d thought he’d remain alone forever. Now, just a few months later, he was having an ongoing affair with his boss, the one man in the world he’d actually fantasized about _killing_ during his time of grief and rage after Lisa’s death. How had he come around to actually _wanting_ him here? How had Jack, his one-time enemy, become the only person Ianto wanted to confide in, or to share his bed? Why did he crave a deeper connection with him?

Jack shuffled and rolled over in his sleep, the sheets sliding lower over his hips. Ianto shamelessly enjoyed the view as he ran his eyes down Jack’s muscular back, but when his gaze reached the base of Jack’s spine, he frowned. There was a dark spot low on his right hip, just peeping out from the edge of the sheet.

Carefully, so as not to wake Jack, Ianto tugged the sheet lower—and for an instant he thought his heart had stopped. There, outlined neatly on Jack’s flesh, was the Torchwood T. There was no mistaking it; each hexagon was perfectly clear. Ianto turned his own arm over and compared the crisp black image on Jack’s body to the softer suggestion of the one on his own wrist. The clarity and color were different, but the marks were about the same size.

Jack was his signum.

_Jack_. His soulmate. His one true match.

Ianto struggled to breathe for a moment, and when his lungs finally cooperated, his breath heaved in a shaky sob. At last! After all his searching, all his fears, here was the answer. He wasn’t destined to be alone. He would never be alone again. He had found his other half, and he was free to love him unreservedly.

And he did love Jack—Ianto realized that now. He always had. Even when he’d been furious with him, even when he’d _hated_ Jack after Lisa’s death, Ianto had still been drawn to him. He’d resisted, made excuses, told himself he was just protecting Lisa when he flirted, convinced himself that their relationship was just casual, but now he realized that some part of his heart had belonged to Jack almost since the day he’d met him.

He wanted to shake Jack awake and share his discovery, declare his love and his joy at finding his soulmate. But Jack was actually sleeping for once, his face blissfully slack in repose. Seeing Jack so relaxed and vulnerable was such a rare thing that Ianto couldn’t bring himself to disturb Jack’s rest, even for this life-altering revelation. Instead he lay down again, curled himself around his lover’s body, and waited for morning to come.

* * *

Torchwood, as usual, did not grant them a leisurely morning to recover.

Ianto jerked awake to the trill of Jack’s mobile and the sudden movement of the body in his arms. He blinked fog from his eyes as Jack scrambled out of the bed. Ianto had drifted off again just after dawn, too exhausted from the Weevil chase the night before to stay awake. There had been something else, too, something important…

_Oh!_ _Right._ The memory of his discovery returned vividly as Jack bent forward to pull on his pants, giving Ianto a clear view of the Torchwood mark on his skin. _How did I never notice that before? Surely I_ _’ve seen Jack naked before now_ … Granted, he’d usually been somewhat distracted at those times…

By the time Ianto had dragged himself up to a sitting position, Jack was already pulling on his boots. “Rift alert,” he explained to Ianto. “I need to be back at the Hub _now_. I’ll take the SUV. Get dressed and get there as soon as you can.” With that, he dashed for the front door, still carrying his shirt.

Ianto sighed and scrubbed both hands over his face, feeling grit and stubble. He needed more time. He needed to process his revelation from the night before. He certainly needed a shower, and if he were honest, he probably needed another four hours of sleep.

“But the rift waits for no man,” Ianto muttered, hauling himself to his feet. “Or… something. God, I need a coffee.”

* * *

Jack had already gone out to address the rift alert by the time Ianto arrived at the Hub, and it was late afternoon before he returned, somewhat dustier and carrying a burned-out hunk of copper that had once been some kind of alien transmitter. The sight of him, disheveled as he was, made Ianto’s heart swell with love and hope for the future. _My signum,_ he indulged himself as he watched Jack peeling spiderwebs off the cuffs of his trousers _. My lover_. Jack scraped roughly at the dirt on the sleeve of his greatcoat, and Ianto frowned. _My favorite coat that needs dry cleaning_. _Again._

It wouldn’t do to reveal anything in front of the others, but Ianto couldn’t resist trying to communicate his feelings to Jack, even in the workplace. He began sneaking warm smiles when the others weren’t looking, or slipping an affectionate touch into a coffee delivery, or trying to manipulate their work routine to let him be physically closer to Jack. If Jack noticed the change, he gave no indication.

The rift spat crisis after crisis at them, and three days passed before they saw another evening free of alien encroachment. The moment the disasters abated and Toshiko declared a clear forecast for the night, Ianto seized his chance. “I’ve finished for the evening,” he announced as he entered Jack’s office. “Is there anything else you need me to do before closing up shop?”

Jack glanced up from the report he was filling out. “You’re sure in a hurry. Got a hot date or something?”

“Maybe.” Ianto flashed a smile. “Waiting to find out.”

Jack glanced at his watch. “It’s a quarter to eight already. Hope your date’s plans are flexible.”

“I’m working on that.” Ianto crossed to the desk and boldly plucked the pen from Jack’s hand. “I’m not planning on filing that report until tomorrow, sir, so there’s no reason to finish it tonight.” He leaned forward, conscious of the open door and Gwen and Toshiko’s direct line of sight. “Come back to mine?” he murmured.

Jack stared up at him, and from this close vantage, Ianto could see his pupils dilate fractionally. “I’ll send the others home.”

They made short work of their closing procedures and raced back to the house, where Ianto’s hoped-for conversation quickly devolved into frantic snogging. The passion soon transferred to the bedroom, where coherent words were driven from both their minds.

Jack stayed the night again, and once more Ianto woke early and watched him sleep. In a moment of panic he tugged the covers down to confirm that the perfect Torchwood symbol on Jack’s backside had not been a dream. Overcome with relief and affection, Ianto traced the mark with trembling fingers.

The gentle touch awakened Jack, who grunted and stretched leisurely before flopping over on his back. He gazed up at Ianto from sleep-swollen eyes. His hair was tousled, and a shadow of stubble covered his cheek, but Ianto thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“Morning,” Jack mumbled, rubbing one eye. “What time is it?”

“Nearly seven.” Ianto didn’t take his eyes from Jack’s face, seeing him in a new light. _This_ was the man he would spend his life with. _This_ was the man he would love forever. The soul who would bond with his own, and share everything with him.

If he could just figure out how to _tell_ him.

Over the last few days, Ianto had given significant thought to how he should approach the subject of their match. He knew Jack needed to be fully awake for that conversation. Perhaps he should give Jack some time to wake up, maybe make him some coffee…

Jack stretched his jaw in a massive yawn. In a heartbeat, Ianto’s excitement overwhelmed rational thought. “Jack, you have a mark on your hip,” he blurted.

The yawn morphed into a laugh. “Oh, you found it.”

“Found it?” Something clenched in Ianto’s stomach. “You were keeping it from me?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “If I were trying to hide it, do you think I’d be sleeping naked? I just don’t tend to advertise it.” He yawned again, pushed himself into a sitting position, and leaned back against the wall. “It just looks a little silly, having a tramp stamp of the company logo. I mean, as tattoos go, it’s pretty weird.”

The discomfort in Ianto’s stomach intensified. “Tattoo?”

“Yeah. Not the most inspired design, but I guess it could have been worse.”

Ianto was struggling to absorb the words. “It’s… a tattoo?”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah. Funny story, actually. A while back—long before any of you worked for Torchwood—a vat of alien moonshine fell through the rift. One night I got really, _really_ drunk on it and went out to the clubs. I woke up in an alley with an empty wallet, a hangover the size of Big Ben, and a serious pain in the ass. Apparently in my booze-induced haze, I’d gone and gotten myself a Torchwood tattoo.” He patted his hip. “I could have had it removed, but I figured everything else in Torchwood is labeled, so why not me?”

Ianto’s world shifted sideways, and he felt suddenly ill. “You… a tattoo…”

“What, didn’t think I was rebel enough?” Jack yawned again. “I forget it’s there, most of the time. It’s not a place you can look at yourself without a mirror, unless you’re a contortionist.” He tipped his head back and laughed. “Speaking of which, did I ever tell you about the time I…”

Jack launched into one of his absurd, risque stories, but Ianto wasn’t listing. He had gone numb from the word _tattoo,_ and now his gut heaved as though he would be sick. A tattoo. It certainly explained the dark, sharp outline of the symbol, so unlike his own mark—but more importantly, it meant that Jack wasn’t his signum.

Jack wasn’t his anything. Jack would _never_ be his, not truly, not with the deep, inseparable bond Ianto craved. Jack would never return the profound love Ianto had discovered for him. Just as with Lisa, Ianto could love Jack with all his heart and still lose him.

Ianto rolled out of bed while Jack was still talking. “Hey!” Jack called after him. “Where are you going?”

Ianto felt cold, and dirty, and exposed, and alone, and he desperately wished he were anywhere but here. “I need a shower,” he mumbled, and closed the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

Ianto never _meant_ to push Jack away. It was simply that after feeling his heart blossom with love and then seeing his happy future wither on the vine, he found it difficult to invest the same emotional energy in their relationship that he’d done before. Afraid of the sudden vulnerability he’d discovered in himself, he smothered his passion until all that remained between himself and Jack was casual _bonhomie_.

Jack picked up on the change almost immediately. At first he was softer with Ianto, handling him gently to try to regain his affection, but after a few days with no improvement, he turned cold. He ceased inviting Ianto to stay late, or suggesting they hunt Weevils together. He even stopped flirting during working hours, which led Ianto to worry that the others would notice the drastic change in Jack’s behavior and thereby discover their involvement.

He hadn’t set out to end things, but by the time Ianto realized his mistake, even the warm familiarity in their daily interactions had vanished completely. Soon Jack was treating him the way he had during those tentative first weeks of Ianto’s employment—practically ignoring him unless he needed something.

Even Gwen noticed the difference. Ever helpful, she cornered Ianto in the archives one afternoon while Jack was busy consulting with Toshiko. “Ianto,” she opened, “did something happen with you and Jack?”

Ianto nearly fumbled the Varanian power inverter he was labeling. Once he’d recovered his grip, he swept her with a searching look. Did she know about his liaisons with Jack? No; she didn’t have the smug look of one who knows something and is trying to confirm it. She seemed genuinely curious, though she had never bothered much about Ianto’s personal relationships before. “How do you mean?”

“He just seemed to be ignoring you in the meeting this morning. I thought you brought up a good point about the telephone lines, but he talked right over you as though you weren’t there. It didn’t seem like him, and I wondered if something could be wrong.”

Ah, that explained it. It wasn’t Ianto she was worried about at all—it was Jack. “I guess we’ve all been under a lot of stress lately,” he mumbled. “The rift, and all.”

“The rift’s always busy. This felt like something else.” She chewed her thumbnail. “I wonder if something happened that he hasn’t told us. Do you suppose he’s in some kind of trouble?”

Ianto knew Gwen well enough to know she would keep worrying at the bone of curiosity until she came to some sort of conclusion, so he invented one. “He had a call with the Ministry of Defense right before the meeting. Things got pretty heated.” That much was true, at least; Ianto had heard Jack shouting halfway across the Hub. “He’s probably still on edge.”

Gwen seemed to accept this. “Poor Jack. He has an awful lot on his plate. Do you suppose he’d let someone take over some of those administrative duties for him?” The look she gave Ianto left no doubt as to whom she expected to relieve Jack’s burden.

Ianto returned his most genial smile. “That’s very thoughtful of you to offer, Gwen. I’m sure Jack will be touched by your concern. Why don’t you talk it over with him and see if he’d let you handle the correspondence?”

Gwen suddenly remembered something she needed to do upstairs and excused herself. When she had gone, Ianto slumped against a filing cabinet and sighed. He’d really made a mess of things with Jack, if even the others were starting to notice their estrangement. He doubted things could ever go back to the way they had been for those few precious days when he’d believed Jack to be his signum, but the current situation was untenable. If they were going to continue working together, he’d have to find some way to get back on a civil footing with Jack.

Ianto lay awake that night plotting out a dozen scenarios to mend things, but in his head, none of them played out with a happy ending. At last he fell into a fitful sleep and dreamed of lovers exiting his life through a revolving door.

* * *

The next morning, Jack and Toshiko fell through a hole in time and were trapped in 1941.

Before the day was out, Ianto found himself on the losing end of a fight with Owen. Bruised, aching, short of breath, Ianto curled into a ball on the walkway where he’d been beaten and kicked. He considered staying down; Owen was in command now, and Ianto had already tried and failed to stop him. And if he were honest, he wasn’t certain he _wanted_ to stop him from trying to bring Jack and Toshiko back. Even though his romantic relationship with Jack had stalled, Ianto was still loyal to the friend who had cared for and helped mend him after Lisa’s death. And Toshiko had been kind to him even after his suspension. How could he abandon his friends in another time?

But Jack had ordered them not to open the rift, had even locked away the instructions in his private vault to _keep_ them from doing so, and the captain knew best about matters of time and space. Ianto should stop Owen. It was the right thing to do. More, it was what Jack would have wanted him to do. _And this metal grating is hell on my shoulder,_ he added silently, pushing himself painfully upright.

The semiautomatic felt heavy in his hand, but he staggered resolutely to where Owen was adjusting the hardware in the rift manipulator.

“Put the key down,” he rasped as he raised the pistol, “or I’ll shoot.”

Despite the wounding comments Owen had made about Lisa, Ianto tried his best to appeal to Owen’s heart—though he was rapidly reaching the conclusion that the doctor didn’t have one. Owen merely scoffed and and added insult to the injuries already pulsing in Ianto’s ribs. “Don’t compare yourself to me. You’re just a tea boy.”

An image flashed unbidden into Ianto’s mind: Jack’s face, drowsy and contented as he cradled the mug of tea Ianto had brought him. He’d returned half-frozen from a Weevil hunt, and Ianto had swaddled him in blankets and rubbed warmth into his limbs. _What would I do without you?_ Jack had murmured, to which Ianto had quipped, _Freeze to death, probably_.

Jack had fallen asleep against his shoulder that night. It was the first time Ianto had seen him rest. It was the first time their fearless captain had ever seemed _vulnerable_.

Ianto’s fingers tightened on the pistol grip. “I’m much more than that,” he shot back at Owen. “Jack needs me!”

“In your dreams, Ianto,” Owen sneered. “In your sad wet dreams, when you’re his part-time shag, maybe.”

The pistol dropped to Ianto’s side as the words hit home. As much as he had been resisting the truth, Owen was right. Jack didn’t need him the way Ianto needed Jack. Even if they had slept together for a few weeks, Jack wasn’t in love with him, and no matter how much Ianto wanted him, Jack would never be his. The mark on his wrist was all the evidence he needed to prove that they weren’t destined to be together. It was only a matter of time until Jack moved on, leaving Ianto alone again.

Owen let out a shout of triumph, and with a start Ianto realized he’d activated the rift manipulator. “No!” Ianto screamed, raising the pistol, but it was too late. The rift energy hurled him back.

* * *

Two hours later, Ianto was regretting every step that had brought him to this point.

“It was beautiful, in a way,” Toshiko was saying as she pressed down the edge of the medical tape. She was patching up Ianto’s wounds from the fight with Owen, since the doctor was still up in Jack’s office. He’d been there for a while, and Ianto hoped Jack was tearing him a new one. “And that made it all the more tragic. I never would have thought it of Jack—our Jack, I mean—but you could see he was completely smitten. It must have been so hard for him to leave that other Jack, knowing he was going to die the next day. When they kissed…”

Ianto flinched, and he let Toshiko think it was because of his bruised ribs. He was glad she and Jack had been brought back through the rift safely, but he could have done without her play-by-play account of Jack’s short-lived love affair with his namesake. It was hard enough to admit he was responsible for scuttling their relationship without having to listen to a detailed report on Jack’s first rebound romance.

Fortunately, he was saved from further torment by the arrival of Gwen at the top of the medical bay steps. “Jack says we’re all done for the night,” she called. “We’ll wrap up the rest of the reports in the morning.”

Toshiko frowned. “But we still don’t know exactly what happened with the rift, or what Bilis Manger was up to. Don’t you think we should look into that further?”

Gwen shrugged. “Take it up with Jack. He seemed really tired, so maybe he just wants a break after everything he’s been through today.” She nodded at Toshiko. “You too, Tosh. You’ve done your share of time traveling today. You should probably get some rest.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Toshiko finished up Ianto’s bandages and patted him on the shoulder. “You should take it easy too, Ianto. See you in the morning.”

“Good night, Tosh.” Ianto rolled his stiff shoulder, buttoned his shirt, and climbed the steps to the main level. Owen was just collecting his things at his desk, and he shot a hooded glance at Ianto. There was an awkward nod—was it an apology?—and then the doctor hurried through the cog door. Gwen and Toshiko followed soon after.

The desk lamp was still burning in Jack’s office, and Ianto made a snap decision. Before he could lose his nerve, he crossed the platform and tapped on the open glass door. “Jack?”

Jack was sitting at his desk, a distant look on his face. He roused himself and turned his head at Ianto’s entrance. “Yeah?”

“I…” Ianto’s mind went blank, and he cleared his throat. “I just wondered… if you needed anything else. Coffee, or… have you eaten?”

“I’m fine.” Jack’s eyes drifted back to his desk.

Ianto stared at him, at the soft light playing over his handsome features, at the vagueness in his expression, and his heart constricted. “Jack,” he began again, stepping closer, “I’m sorry.”

Jack didn’t look at him. “For what?”

 _For pushing you away. For not telling you how I feel. For not being enough for you._ “I failed to stop Owen,” he said instead. “I told him not to use the rift manipulator, but I should have done more to enforce your orders. I should have stopped him.”

“It’s fine,” Jack said quietly. “Given the way things turned out… maybe it’s better this way.”

Ianto had the distinct impression he wasn’t talking about the rift. He took another tentative step toward the desk. “Are you… are you all right? You’ve been through a lot today.”

“I’m fine. Just need some sleep.”

Ianto’s eyes flicked to the hatch cover that led to Jack’s cramped sleeping quarters. There wasn’t much room down there, but… “Do you want me to stay?”

“No.”

That was it. No hesitation, no apology, no thanks-for-your-concern. Just a flat rejection. Ianto swallowed the tightness in his throat and somehow managed to excuse himself without further humiliation, leaving Jack staring into space.

He made it all the way to his car before the tears came.

* * *

Five days later, Ianto was crying again, his face buried in the collar of Jack’s greatcoat as he sobbed quietly.

He had betrayed Jack, joined the others against him and helped them open the rift again. Now the man he loved was dead, lying in the morgue three floors below, while Gwen sat vigil. _It should be me_ , Ianto thought bitterly, but there was no point in revealing his relationship with Jack to the others at this point. Besides, what claim could he make on Jack? They weren’t soulmates; they could barely be called lovers. Jack had shagged him a few times, as he doubtless had done to half of Cardiff before he’d chosen Ianto for his after-hours favors.

But Ianto had lost another love, and he was alone again. He’d known it would happen eventually, but he wasn’t ready. His relationship with Jack had been rocky over the past couple of weeks, but he had taken for granted that Jack would be there until his own feelings faded—a slow denouement to their affair. He hadn’t imagined someone else he loved would be torn away by sudden death.

Gwen insisted Jack wasn’t dead. She sat patiently by his side, repeating her story of seeing him awaken after a gunshot to the head. But Ianto knew better; he’d lost Lisa, and now he’d lost Jack, and that was the way of his life. He supposed he should be grateful that his signum had never appeared. Given the pattern established so far, anyone destined to be his soulmate was likely doomed to an untimely and violent end.

In the first days after Jack’s death, Ianto had fallen into routine like an automaton. He cleaned Jack’s office, made coffee for the others, emptied the bins, and offered tourists a plastic smile when they came to the office for information. Only when he was alone, curled in his bed in the dark, or hiding in Jack’s office when he couldn’t last the day at the Hub, did he succumb to his grief. Slowly it dried him out, wringing his emotions until he was a brittle husk, going through the motions of life.

When he’d composed himself and returned Jack’s coat reverently to the rack, he slipped quietly out to the central Hub. Toshiko and Owen paid him no attention, too focused on suppressing their own guilt and grief to be aware of his. Ianto mechanically performed his duties, picking up rubbish and cleaning surfaces that hadn’t had time to become soiled since the last time he’d needed a manual task to distract his mind.

As he rolled up his cuffs to wash the coffee cups and filter basket, he caught a glimpse of his birthmark. In the week since he’d paid it any notice, it had darkened a full shade, the edges becoming sharper until it really did resemble the Torchwood logo. _Just like Jack_ _’s tattoo_ , he thought, and his stomach turned so sharply that he thought he might vomit.

He abandoned the washing up and fastened his cuffs again, struggling to escape the ever-present reminders of what he’d lost. He was on the verge of fleeing to the tourist office when a startled cry from behind him drew his attention, and he spun to see…

 _Jack_. Alive. Looking at him.

It was impossible. Jack was dead. Ianto had helped Owen prepare Jack’s lifeless body for cold storage. And yet…

Ianto’s pulse pounded in his throat, and it was all he could do to walk calmly across the Hub and offer his hand. Jack ignored it and pulled him into a tight embrace, and Ianto’s heart soared as he clutched at the familiar blue shirt. “I’m sorry,” he breathed into Jack’s shoulder.

“I forgive you,” Jack murmured in his ear. He pulled back and, before Ianto could fully process what was happening, pressed his lips to Ianto’s. Ianto melted into him, willing that moment of connection to convey everything he had thought and felt and regretted. Jack’s thumb grazed over his cheek, and Ianto took it as a sign of understanding.

Then Jack was off to embrace and forgive Owen, and Gwen and Toshiko were crying in joy and relief, and Ianto felt like joining them. Jack was _alive_ , and he still cared. Just this once, his world had been righted.

Ianto moved in a daze as they clustered around their leader like repentant children, peppering him with questions, until Jack steered them to the remains of the briefing room. The windows had all been shattered, but Ianto had spent the better part of a day sweeping up glass fragments and cleaning shards out of the upholstery to make it usable. Jack noticed and complimented his hard work, and Ianto blushed furiously at his praise.

After a general debriefing with the team, during which he explained his immortality with a frustrating lack of specifics, Jack stretched his neck and yawned. “Man, being dead sure takes it out of you,” he said. “How about a coffee, Ianto?”

Ianto recalled the dishes he hadn’t finished with a flush of guilt. “It will be a few minutes. I was in the middle of cleaning the machine when you…”

Jack waved a hand. “Don’t bother with that now. Why don’t you run up and pick some up at that place around the corner?” He glanced around at the others. “Owen, Tosh, how long has it been since you went outside? Why don’t you all go, and pick up some of those really good pastries while you’re at it. I could use a snack.”

Toshiko laid a hand on his arm. “Why don’t you come with us, Jack? You could use some fresh air too, I’ll bet.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m going to finish signing off on those reports, and then I’m going to be _done_. If ever there was a night to kick back and ignore work, this is it.” He flashed a grin and waved them toward the door. “Go on. I’ll see you in a few minutes, and when I’m finished we can all go celebrate saving the world again. My treat.”

Gwen opted to stay behind to finish her own reports—so she said, though Ianto suspected ulterior motives. Still, he didn’t press. He supposed the walk and fresh air would do him good; he hadn’t seen proper daylight in nearly a week.

As he walked, he rehearsed all the things he wanted to say to Jack as soon as he had him alone. He didn’t care if they weren’t destined to be together; he had loved Lisa, despite her different birthmark, and he loved Jack, despite his lack of one. Now that they had been given a second chance, Ianto was willing to start afresh and make a serious go of it, if Jack would have him back.

Ianto ruminated on his future with Jack all the way back from the coffee shop. But when they returned to the Hub, Gwen was standing alone, and Jack was gone.

* * *

Ianto spent the first week tearing apart the Hub, researching, tracking, scanning, and begging Toshiko to help him find any trace of where Jack had gone.

The next week, they were summoned to Nepal by a mysterious message that ultimately led them to an isolated mountain, a bomb, and a near miss with an avalanche.

They returned a week later, battered and bruised, to find the nation in chaos. The new Prime Minister had shot the President of the United States, and the rift had been going mad in their absence.

Jack had not returned.

Four weeks to the day from Jack’s mysterious resurrection and even more mysterious disappearance, Ianto entered his house alone. He dug through a basket of old papers and junk mail until he found a crumpled business card. He dialed the number. Listened to it ring.

At last it connected. “Dr. Peters? It’s Ianto Jones. We met… yes, that’s right. I was wondering if your offer was still open…”


	10. Chapter 10

Dr. Peters pulled his rolling chair up beside Ianto and sat. “Right. Session Twelve. So tell me, Mr. Jones, any change to report since last time?”

Ianto looked up from the magazine he was paging through. “Nothing new, no.”

Dr. Peters took Ianto’s pulse, monitoring the seconds on the huge leather diving watch he always wore, then made a note on his clipboard. “All right. Let me see how we’re looking…” He turned away to peer at a screen that displayed a magnified view of Ianto’s birthmark and began tapping keys. The array of equipment focused on Ianto’s wrist began whirring and scanning.

Ianto settled back in the comfortable recliner and closed his eyes. In the six weeks since he’d begun participating in the SoulMatch research study he had grown accustomed to this routine. The hour-long sessions were something like a dental check-up, only without all the annoying metal tools and gritty tooth polish. Except for the benchmark questions they asked each time about his emotional state, stress level, sexual activity and the like, he had very little to do during the semiweekly appointments. Dr. Peters’s team examined the mark, took biometric readings, occasionally drew blood for analysis, and sometimes asked him to swallow a little capsule so they could test for certain hormone responses.

Ianto waited until Dr. Peters finished his analysis and turned back to him before speaking. “Should I bother asking?”

“Asking what, Mr. Jones?”

“If you’ve found my signum.”

The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile. “These things take time, Mr. Jones. Your mark is very complex, and it’s taken a long time to develop. It’s possible your signum’s mark is also changing, which would account for the difficulty in finding them.”

“When I signed on for this study, you told me most participants found their matches within the first month.”

“And most do.” Dr. Peters rolled his chair closer. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Jones. Now, this is technically proprietary information, so I must remind you of that non-disclosure agreement you signed when you joined the study.” He glanced around to ensure there were no other patients nearby. “Your mark is very special, Mr. Jones.”

Ianto glanced at the clear symbol of Torchwood branded on his wrist and snorted. “I’ll say.”

“You don’t understand. Look…” Dr. Peters reached across and picked up a SoulMatch brochure from a rack on the wall. “You’ve probably seen dozens of people with simple marks, like this one.” He pointed to the photo on the front, which showed a smiling man and woman with identical and obviously-Photoshopped heart marks on their hands. “Hearts, ovals, flower petals, you know the type.”

Ianto nodded. “That’s what most people have, isn’t it?”

“It is. And I’ll tell you a secret: Those people, the common ones with common marks, they’re everywhere. Worldwide, we have over _six hundred thousand_ registrants with heart-shaped marks.” He tapped the brochure. “That’s why we use it in our advertising, because there are so many of them, and they see the picture and think, ‘Oh, that could be me.’ And those common people, they tend to be complacent about love. They’re compatible with almost anyone in their category. There’s no ‘one true match’ with them; it’s more like, ‘Find someone with a similar enough mark and you’ll be happy enough.’ We do our best to match them with the best candidate, of course, but they’re just as content with second-best if their exact match is unavailable.”

Ianto frowned. “That’s not very uplifting.”

“It’s not, but what can you do? It’s the way of the world. But you!” Dr. Peters set the brochure aside and tapped Ianto’s arm. “You have an _un_ common mark, one that is extremely complex. With marks of this type, there is only ever one exact match. And once established, that match, that bond, is so much deeper and stronger than the common marks, it really does deserve to be named a ‘soulmate.’ That’s why it’s taking so long to find your signum, Mr. Jones. Because there is truly only one person out there for you.”

Ianto considered this. “Are you certain? I mean, do you know for sure that my match is out there? What if they’ve died, or something?”

Dr. Peters tapped his nose. “I can’t reveal all of our trade secrets, but trust me, we have ways of knowing. Think of it as a type of magnetism. We can tell by the effect on your mark that there is an answering mark out there.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve invented a compass that works on this magnetism?” Ianto replied dryly.

Dr. Peters stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “Very clever, Mr. Jones. I can see why you have the mark you do.” Before Ianto could ask what he meant by that, the doctor tore a piece of paper off his pad and handed it to him. “I think we’re going to move you into Phase Two of our study.”

Ianto examined the prescription. He hadn’t heard of the drug it named, but knowing SoulMatch, it was probably proprietary. “What’s Phase Two?”

“Do you know what oxytocin is?”

“That’s what’s called the love hormone, isn’t it? What mothers get from holding their children, or something?”

Dr. Peters nodded. “That’s one function. It’s also produced by physical affection—hugs, cuddling, and the like—and also plays a part in nursing, social connection, sex, and a variety of other biological situations.” He consulted Ianto’s chart. “Now, according to your survey responses, you aren’t currently sexually active?”

Ianto’s cheeks warmed. “My last couple of relationships ended badly. I’m taking some time off.”

“That’s fine; it’s your choice. I just want to make sure we have correct information, so the results aren’t skewed.” He indicated the script in Ianto’s hand. “This supplement boosts oxytocin production. We’re tracking the acute effect of affection and intimate situations on mark development, and for that we’re comparing three groups: A control group, a group that is producing a great deal of the hormone naturally—new mothers, intimate couples, and the like—and a group with artificially-increased hormone levels.”

“And that’s me.” Ianto frowned at the paper. “Any side effects?”

The doctor shrugged. “It also acts as a mood booster, increases one’s trust in others, and sometimes makes people more affectionate toward small animals. Nothing too unpleasant.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

“Love always is.” Dr. Peters smiled broadly. “You can pick up the prescription at the counter on the way out. No charge to you, of course. Take one pill, twice daily, preferably with a meal. Now, if you’ve no other questions, Mr. Jones, you’re free to go. We’ll see you next week at the usual time.”

* * *

The Hub was in chaos when Ianto entered through the cog door. Toshiko was typing frantically and shouting something down to Owen in the medical bay, and Gwen was taking weapons from a case in the armory.

Gwen caught sight of him first. “There he is!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Ianto, get the car. We have a situation.”

Without pausing to remove his coat, Ianto retrieved the SUV keys and headed for the door that led to the garage. “And good afternoon to you, too,” he muttered under his breath.

He couldn’t really blame Gwen for ordering him about. They all did it from time to time, and he knew it was stress-induced rather than personal. They were stretched thin without Jack—not only because they had lost twenty percent of their manpower, but the loss of Jack’s leadership had left an awkward power vacuum that the others sometimes struggled over. Owen claimed he should be in charge, as Gwen was the newest and least experienced member of the team. Gwen insisted she was better at organizing and delegating, while Owen was better on the ground. Toshiko had seniority over both of them, but she had deferred to Gwen after that unfortunate incident with the alien artifact, claiming she was compromised and therefore unfit for leadership.

Ianto didn’t bother reminding them where he stood in the official food chain. Technically he had a better claim to leadership than _any_ of them, as he’d worked for a year and a half as personal aide to the Director of the Torchwood Institute, who had outranked even Jack. But he didn’t particularly want to be in charge, so he kept his mouth shut and did as he was told—though not without a fair amount of eye-rolling.

Soon the rest of the team boarded the SUV, Owen elbowing Ianto out of the driver’s seat as usual, and they took off after their latest crisis. Gwen had claimed the navigator’s position, and she verbally critiqued Owen’s driving while offering less-than-helpful updates about their progress.

“We’ll never make it in time,” she announced, anxiously tapping the SatNav display as Owen braked for a long line of cars backed up at a red light. “If we’re right about the countdown, we only have thirteen minutes remaining.”

“Well, maybe you should have a chat with the tea boy about what he does on his extra-long lunch hours,” snapped Owen. “If he’d quit skiving off when he’s supposed to be working, maybe we could have left on time.”

“How is this my fault?” Ianto protested. “I told you exactly how long I’d be gone before I left the Hub. If you’d needed me back before that, you could have called. And it’s not as though you need me to drive,” he added sourly. He wasn’t any fonder of Owen’s driving than Gwen was.

“You shouldn’t have been gone in the first place. Why do you need an hour and a quarter for lunch, anyway? The rest of us just eat in the Hub. While we’re _working_.”

“I told you, I had an appointment.” Ianto’s pent-up frustration brimmed. “And as for working, I’m the first one in to the Hub in the morning and the last one to leave at night. On average, I log three and a half hours more than the rest of you per week, so I don’t think you’re in much of a position to complain about my lunch hour. And before you ask, I know the exact numbers because I am still in charge of payroll and statute compliance, and I’m required to track them.”

Owen tried to retort, but Toshiko shouted over him. “Enough! Could we all stop arguing for a minute, and figure out what we’re going to do about the detonator?”

Gwen checked the countdown again. “Eleven minutes. With this traffic, we…”

She lost the end of the sentence as Owen swerved hard to the left, jumped the SUV’s tires up onto the pavement, and barreled past the traffic jam. Screaming pedestrians and startled cyclists dove out of the way, and he charged through the intersection with blue lights blazing.

“Owen, what are you doing?” Gwen cried. “You’re going to kill someone!”

“If they aren’t smart enough to get out of the way of a four-ton vehicle with big flashing lights on the front, they don’t deserve to live,” Owen growled. He swerved into the oncoming traffic lane to pass a slow-moving lorry, then floored the accelerator. “See? We’re moving again.”

No one spoke until the SUV squealed into a car park. A smoking crater was surrounded by the remains of the late-model Renault that had been parked in the spot where the capsule had crashed. The passengers piled out and surrounded the blinking alien device that had crushed the car.

“It appears to be some kind of drone,” Toshiko observed. The spherical metal object had at one point sported several radiating arms or antennae, which were now crumpled and partially burned from the crash. “I’ve never seen that kind of propeller before, though.”

“It looks like Sputnik,” Ianto added. “Have we angered the KVI lately?”

Owen, who had parked the SUV a short distance away, sauntered up behind them. “‘Thank you, Owen, for getting us to the landing site before the capsule self-destructs.’ You’re welcome.”

Toshiko ignored him and crouched beside the capsule, opening her tool kit. “Okay, I think I can disconnect the detonator. But we’ll need to contain the core quickly once I do. It’s leaking low levels of radiation.”

“I’ll get a containment box from the SUV,” Ianto volunteered. He glanced at Owen, but the doctor was being a prat and Ianto didn’t feel like speaking to him. “Gwen, give me a hand?”

Together they levered out the lead-lined case and lowered it to the ground. Gwen glanced over at Toshiko and Owen, a dozen paces away, then leaned in close to Ianto. “So where were you, really?”

Ianto couldn’t entirely suppress the surge of irritation. “I had an appointment. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It isn’t hard to believe. But it’s odd that you’ve been having these appointments every few days, for _weeks_.” Gwen ran her eyes over him in appraisal. “It’s not a haircut. Can’t be a dentist, not with so many visits. Not a tailor, since your clothes haven’t changed.”

Ianto frowned. “Actually, this is a new suit.”

“Is it? Sorry, I’m rubbish at menswear. It’s nice, though.”

“Glad to know my efforts make such an impression.”

“You always look nice. But that’s not what your appointment was, surely.”

He sighed. “No. But it’s personal, and I don’t really want to discuss it.”

Gwen drew back, clearly hurt by his denial. “Well, if that’s how you feel about it. But Ianto…” She placed a hand on his arm. “You know we’re here if you need to talk about anything, yeah?”

That surprised him. None of the others had ever expressed much interest in his personal life, and even now, he wasn’t sure whether to take Gwen at her word or chalk up her offer to mere curiosity. Still, it was a kind gesture. “I know, Gwen. Thanks.”

“Got it!” Toshiko suddenly shouted, holding up a bronze-colored tube with wires protruding from both ends. “Ianto, I need that containment box!”

“Coming,” Ianto called back. He and Gwen hefted the heavy box and waddled over to the capsule, and they packed away the latest threat to Cardiff’s welfare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incident with the alien artifact that decided who would lead Torchwood in Jack’s absence is told in _Kaleidoscope_ , by Sarah Pinborough. It appears in the _Consequences_ anthology.


	11. Chapter 11

The phone shrilled across the open space of the Hub. Ianto groaned and set down the coffee mug he was drying. Just once, he thought, he’d like to pass an entire morning without some kind of emergency interrupting their work. They were backlogged with more than a week’s worth of maintenance and paperwork as it was, and these cups weren’t going to wash themselves.

Gwen reached the telephone before he could cross the catwalks. After a moment’s conversation, she transfered the call to Toshiko. The moment the tech expert answered, Gwen dropped the receiver and made her way over to the kitchenette. She picked up one of the mugs he’d just finished washing and turned pleading eyes on him. “What do I have to promise you in exchange for a fresh cup of coffee?”

Ianto pretended to consider seriously. “Let’s see… I’m not interested in your immortal soul. Definitely don’t want your firstborn; babies are too much work. I haven’t any use for an arm and a leg…”

“How about my undying gratitude, and I’ll bring in a whole case of biscuits tomorrow?”

“Done.” Ianto took the mug and began preparing her coffee. “What was the phone call?”

“Oh, it’s some scientist at the university again. They keep asking for our help with that algae bloom just off the docks.”

“That’s been there for years, hasn’t it? I remember writing a paper on it when I was in school. I thought it was caused by some sort of industrial runoff.”

Gwen shrugged, her eyes fixed on the stream of black gold trickling into the mug. “That was the theory I always heard, but it seems it’s more complicated than that.”

“But why call us? It’s just algae. Bad for fishing, maybe, but not exactly an alien threat.” He handed Gwen the mug. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She inhaled deeply of the coffee aroma before answering. “I think they’re after our funding. Apparently someone in the Biology department used to be in government, and let slip about us.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “There ought to be mandatory Retconning of every ministry official who steps down from office,” he muttered. “Well, we haven’t time to go trawling for errant plant life.”

Gwen nodded. “Tosh’ll set them straight. I let her handle them because she uses even bigger words than they do.” She sipped from her mug and sighed contentedly. “Thanks for this.”

“Any time.” Ianto withdrew his tray from a cabinet and began preparing coffee for Toshiko and Owen. A minute later, he heard Toshiko drop her headset and groan, and he hurried over to her with a fresh supply of caffeine. “Trouble on the line?” he quipped.

“Nothing a dozen doses of Retcon couldn’t fix. Make them all forget our telephone number.” She took the coffee he offered. “Thanks, I was just about to ask for a cup. I could smell it all the way over here.”

Ianto leaned against her workstation and glanced down at the device she had been disassembling when the call came in. “What’s that you’re working on?”

“Something I pulled out of that capsule that crashed last week. I thought it was part of a bomb, but now I think it’s something else.”

Gwen had wandered over after Ianto, and leaned over Toshiko’s other shoulder to look. “So our mad dash to beat the countdown was for nothing?”

“No, there was definitely a detonator of some kind. I just think maybe it wasn’t an _explosive_ device, so much as a dispersal unit.” Toshiko tapped a large translucent chamber that appeared to be filled with some kind of particulate. “I can’t break the seal on this until it’s contained in quarantine, in case it’s a toxin or virus or something, but from what I can tell, that detonator was designed to blow this canister open. It’s connected to a fan unit here,” she tapped another part of the device, “that looks like it would disperse this fine powder over a wide area.”

Ianto examined it curiously. “So rather than a satellite, it’s something designed to be used within the atmosphere?”

Gwen tensed. “A chemical weapon of some kind, do you think?”

Toshiko shrugged. “Or a seed spreader, or crop duster, or any number of totally innocuous things. I’ll try to extract a sample and run some tests this afternoon, provided the rift doesn’t go wild on us.”

“Oh, now you’ve cursed us,” Gwen said. “Better touch wood!”

Toshiko glanced around. “I can’t. These desks are plastic composite.”

“Touch-wood Three, that’s us,” Ianto said dryly. He offered a wooden pencil from the cup on Toshiko’s desk. “Here, this should do.”

Owen’s sarcastic voice rolled over them from a few steps away. “I go downstairs for five minutes, and come up to find you all talking about touching someone’s wood?” Owen shook his head. “Bunch of sexual deviants, you are. Ianto, how come everyone but me gets a coffee?”

“For one thing, they don’t call me a deviant,” Ianto replied smoothly. He held out the tray with Owen’s mug on it. “You wanted decaf, yes?”

Owen’s hand actually jerked to a halt before he realized Ianto was taking the piss. He scowled before draining half the mug in one draught.

Gwen stared at this display in fascinated disgust. “How’s that caffeine addiction coming, Owen?”

“I’m a doctor. I can prescribe stimulants as needed.” He took another gulp and slammed the mug back on the tray. “Refill? I’ll be downstairs.”

* * *

Perhaps it was the oxytocin softening his mood, but Ianto actually refilled Owen’s mug and made his way down to the medical bay within a few minutes. He might have made the doctor wait longer, but he had an appointment at SoulMatch to get to, and he didn’t want to be caught in lunch rush traffic.

“Here you are.” Ianto set the mug down at Owen’s elbow and tucked the tray beneath his arm. “Anything else, before I leave?”

Owen eyed Ianto over the rim as he took a sip. “You taking another long lunch hour today?”

“I’ll be back at a quarter to one.”

“It’s an hour-long appointment, then?”

Ianto was taken aback by the question. “Yes. Does it matter?”

“So, seven minutes each way. Hmm.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “I’m not telling you the location, no matter how much you play Sherlock Holmes.”

Owen shrugged and set down his mug, casually stepping around to Ianto’s side as though appraising his figure. “I was just wondering how much time that left you to actually eat lunch. You’re looking a little underweight, lately, and I thought you might be skipping meals. Also…” Before Ianto could move, Owen’s hand darted into Ianto’s left trouser pocket and emerged with the little prescription bottle he’d been given at SoulMatch. “I thought so. I figured you weren’t just happy to see me.”

“Hey!” Ianto made a grab for the bottle, but Owen dodged out of his reach. “Give that back!”

“I will, as soon as you explain why you’re taking pills without the clearance of _your doctor_.” Owen shot him a glare before examining the bottle. “I’ve never even heard of this drug. Who the hell is S. Peters, and what’s he been giving you?”

“It’s confidential. I don’t have to tell you.”

“You _will_ tell me, or I’ll strap you down on this table and run every bloody test known to science to figure it out. And you know the girls will help me, once they know you’re keeping something like this to yourself.” Owen held up the bottle. “What is it?”

A part of Ianto wanted to punch Owen in the nose, take his pills back and storm out, but another part—a quiet, deep-rooted part he had scarcely been aware of until now—desperately wanted to confide in him. Ianto had been struggling alone with his isolation and the questions about his signum, and he was tired of keeping secrets. In some ways, it would be a relief to have it all out in the open.

Then he remembered the side effects Dr. Peters had told him about, and wondered if it were only the medication making him trust Owen. “I don’t have to tell you.”

Owen’s chin flicked up at the challenge. “Oi, Gwen, got a minute?” he called.

“Yeah, I can procrastinate for sixty more seconds.” Gwen leaned over the railing. “What is it?”

Ianto frantically shook his head, and the corners of Owen’s mouth tipped up in triumph. “Oh, never mind, Ianto’s taking care of it. Back to work with you.”

Ianto sighed, defeated. “It’s an oxytocin supplement,” he muttered when Gwen had disappeared.

“Not under any name I’ve ever heard of.” Owen’s look of disapproval switched from the bottle to Ianto. “What’s it for? I know you’re not in couples’ sex therapy.”

Ianto’s face warmed. “How would you know?”

“Be real, mate. You don’t have a life outside of Torchwood. Even if you did, none of us have time for proper relationships.”

The cavalier assumption stung all the more for its accuracy. “Gwen does,” he protested.

“Only because the boyfriend predates her starting here. And stop changing the subject. The only other reasons I can think of to prescribe this dosage of oxytocin would be experimental treatment of autism or obsessive-compulsive disorder, neither of which presented in your psychological workup.” He cocked his head speculatively. “Though you _are_ awfully detail-oriented…”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “I’m not OCD. I’m just participating in a research study.”

“Why the hell would you sign up for something like that? We barely have time to _sleep_ in Torchwood, much less waste two hours a week doing unnecessary medical observation.”

Ianto was beginning to regret confessing the truth to Owen. “Look, I’m going to be late for my appointment. Will you give me back my pills?”

Owen checked his watch. “You won’t be late for another four minutes. And you’re going to spend that four minutes telling me what the study is and why you haven’t told me about it before.”

Ianto sulked for a full minute, but he knew Owen could be just as stubborn—and that he wouldn’t hesitate to leverage Gwen and Toshiko again. “It’s at SoulMatch. They’re researching different types of birthmarks.”

“Why are you participating?”

“I have an unusual mark.”

“No, that’s why they want you in their study. Why are _you_ participating?”

Ianto would have dug in his heels again, but he knew he had only two minutes to finish this argument before he would be late. “Because it will help me find my signum!” he burst. “Because I’ve been looking for years, and no registry has ever turned up a match. Because my mark keeps changing, and I don’t know why. Pick a reason.” He held out a hand. “I’ve told you everything you asked. Now will you give me back my pills?”

Owen looked at him with new interest. “Why are you so keen to find your signum?”

“Isn’t everyone?” Owen didn’t answer, and Ianto shook his head. “I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of losing everyone I’ve ever loved. Rachel, Lisa…” He broke off and stared at the floor.

“Jack?” Owen supplied quietly. Ianto’s head snapped up, his eyed wide, and the doctor shrugged. “I saw the way you kissed him after he… woke up. I mean, it was pretty obvious you had a thing for him, but none of us realized that you two were actually…” He wiggled his fingers to fill in the blank—surprisingly restrained, given Owen’s usual crass manner.

“Well, now he’s gone, too,” Ianto continued. “I just want something permanent. Someone I can be with and know it’s meant to be. Not always worrying they’re going to leave.”

Owen’s gaze had drifted to one side. “I hate to tell you, mate, but finding your soulmate is no guarantee of that.”

Guilt closed Ianto’s throat for a moment. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I know you lost your fiancee. I shouldn’t have…”

Owen dismissed it with a shake of his head, then opened the bottle and shook out one capsule. He set the pill on a tray before recapping the bottle and handing it to Ianto.

Ianto pocketed the container and nodded toward the lone capsule. “What are you doing with that?”

“I don’t like people giving unlisted drugs to my patients. I’m going to analyze it and make sure it is what they told you it is.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Owen, SoulMatch is a reputable…”

“SoulMatch is a vulture preying on desperate, heartsick people and making a _fortune_ at it,” Owen cut in firmly. “I don’t trust them to do anything that isn’t rooted in profit for themselves.” He held up a hand to forestall Ianto’s protest. “If there’s nothing wrong with the contents of that capsule, then I won’t say another word against them, and you can continue taking your long lunch hours twice a week—as long as you remember to eat, which I _will_ say something about. But I want to check this out myself.”

“Do what you like,” Ianto sighed.

“I usually do.” Owen smirked and pointed up the stairs. “Now, aren’t you late for your appointment?”


	12. Chapter 12

Owen’s doubts lingered menacingly in the back of Ianto’s mind as he drove to his appointment, but he succeeded in pushing them away when he entered the SoulMatch building and gazed up at sixty-eight feet of tumbling water. There was something soothing about it, he decided. He wondered if they could modify the base of the Hub’s water tower to have a more appealing sound. Probably not, given that the base of the tower housed the rift manipulator…

With a start Ianto remembered he was late for his appointment, and he hurried through security check-in.

He was just settling into his usual padded recliner when he heard a voice projected across the room. “Mr. Jones!” Ianto looked up to see Evelyn Braithwaite striding toward him, her five-star smile radiating at high power. “A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Jones. How are you?”

“Well, Ms. Braithwaite. And you?”

She looked surprised, but pleased. “And you even remembered my name! How kind.” She bent over Ianto’s chair to shake his free hand, her silver cuff bracelet sparkling in the light of the monitors around them. “Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Ianto gave a polite smile.

“Well, if you need anything at all, you just let me know. Dr. Peters says you’re one of our most important study participants, so we want to keep you happy.” She winked.

Ianto laughed self-consciously. “I’m sure I can’t be as important as all that.”

“Oh, but you are, Mr. Jones!” Dr. Peters came around the corner, dragging his rolling chair behind him. “A very important subject, indeed. I’m learning quite a lot from studying your birthmark and the chemical response to it.” He took his seat and scooted the chair closer with his feet. “You’ve been taking your supplements, yes?”

“Faithfully, twice daily, with meals,” Ianto answered. “Except this past Tuesday; we had a bit of a crisis at work, and I skipped dinner, so I forgot to take it that night.”

“Understandable. And missing one dose won’t affect things too much.” Dr. Peters made a note on his chart. “Any changes?”

Ianto hesitated. “Not that I’ve noticed.” He didn’t feel like talking about Owen and his sudden urge to trust him. He especially didn’t want to discuss the things the team doctor had implied about SoulMatch.

“Fine, fine. Well, let’s get started with the tests.” Dr. Peters retrieved a slender silver device from Ianto’s file folder and turned to insert it into a panel beside the monitors.

Ianto had seen the object before, but this time he decided to indulge his curiosity. “What sort of system are you using? I’ve worked with a lot of computer systems, but I’ve never seen that kind of media before.”

“Oh, these are our data keys.” Dr. Peters held up the slim device for Ianto to see. “One for each patient. The interface is proprietary, of course, but it’s basically just your standard old-school magnetic media.”

“But in this format, it’s very difficult for an outsider to copy any of our technology,” Ms. Braithwaite put in. “You wouldn’t believe the threat of industrial espionage in this industry.”

“I imagine it’s quite a lucrative field.” Ianto thought of the high cost of registration that had once bankrupted him, multiplied by hundreds of thousands of registrants, and was reminded unpleasantly of Owen’s vulture metaphor.

“We have the most comprehensive database and the most advanced algorithms in the industry, so there’s always someone trying to steal our data. Using proprietary equipment and keeping every member’s profile stored offline significantly reduces the risk of theft. All our cross-referencing is done locally, on our own closed system, so it’s impossible to hack. All our satellite offices have redundant security measures in place. Rest assured, your personal information is safe with us.”

Ianto hadn’t been particularly concerned about his personal information, but Ms. Braithwaite carried on talking about the match-finding industry and SoulMatch’s advanced security systems while Dr. Peters performed the usual procedures. Ianto would have preferred to just rest quietly—it had been quite the exhausting week at Torchwood—but he didn’t want to be rude, so he endured her presentation and nodded when appropriate.

After his appointment had finished, Ianto stopped in at the guest lounge to snag a cup of tea and a few biscuits. As Owen had astutely observed, he had been sacrificing his lunch hours to keep the appointments, so he always took advantage of the complimentary snacks SoulMatch offered to their study participants. Glancing at the tray of biscuits, he decided he should wash his hands first—no telling what patients might have sat in that padded chair before him, and Torchwood couldn’t afford sick days with only four people on staff—so he stepped into the adjacent men’s room.

Just as he was drying his hands, he heard voices.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Evelyn Braithwaite’s voice asked. He could hear the splash of the hot water carafe, and imagined she must be making herself a cup of tea.

“It’s Jones.” That voice belonged to Dr. Peters.

Ianto inched closer to the door.

“I thought you said he was responding well?”

“He is, yes. And the flux point seems to be stabilizing; his mark is much more developed now than it was when you first flagged him for study.”

“It’s always nice to know we’re not wasting our time. So what’s the trouble?”

“It’s not with Jones, _per se_. It’s with his signum.”

“You found a match for him?”

“Yes—sort of. We’ve identified the match he _should_ have had, but it seems to be missing.”

“Missing? What do you mean, _missing?_ Is it a match or isn’t it?”

“It is, but we can’t locate that profile anywhere. Take a look at the readings.” There was a rustling of papers. Ianto strained his ears.

“That’s… odd,” said Ms. Braithwaite. “Are you certain? You’ve searched everywhere?”

“Everywhere on the planet. The whole network. It’s as though the profile has been deactivated, somehow.”

“That’s impossible. Could it be some kind of technical problem?”

“We’ve run diagnostics. And we haven’t had any other cases like this to suggest interference. All our test signals are coming through just fine. This one has just vanished from our system.”

“This is troubling. You haven’t told Jones yet?”

“No. I didn’t want to get his hopes up if we couldn’t deliver his signum right away.”

“Good choice. We can’t let him know until this is sorted. He’s too important to lose.” There was the sound of something landing in the bin, and Ms. Braithwaite’s voice receded as she exited the room. “Come down to my office. I’d like to…”

Ianto waited another minute to be certain they were gone before stepping back into the lounge, but he made it only a few steps before he had to lean against the wall, knees shaking. His heart filled with hope at the thought of his signum, but it was smothered by the fear of something being wrong with the match. He’d lost Lisa; he’d lost Jack; now, it seemed he was at risk of losing his true soulmate before they’d even met.

But he _had_ a signum. They’d at least confirmed that Ianto’s soulmate existed, even if they didn’t have a current address for them. But Torchwood had extensive resources, perhaps even more comprehensive than the SoulMatch database—and Ianto knew how to find things that weren’t on public record. If he could just get his signum’s name, he could search for them on his own.

But how? Clearly Dr. Peters and Ms. Braithwaite weren’t ready to disclose the information. Could he steal it from his own file? No; his profile was encoded on that proprietary data key. Even if he managed to get it out of the building without triggering any alarms—unlikely, given the extensive security protocols Ms. Braithwaite had rambled on about—he wouldn’t have any way to read it.

Or would he? Dr. Peters had said it was magnetic media, and there were only so many ways to record data on pulverized iron particles. He was certain they could build some sort of device to extract the files. And even if the data were encrypted, Toshiko could certainly find a way to crack the code. Their resident genius hadn’t met any computer system she couldn’t dominate.

A plan percolating in his mind, Ianto headed back to the Hub.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Ianto made certain to purchase Toshiko’s favorite pastries on his way in to work. He plated two of them and filled her mug with an exceptional French roast before making his way to her workstation.

The treats put her in an accommodating mood, but her enthusiasm waned as he described what he needed done. “I don’t know, Ianto,” she murmured, setting down her mug. “I’d have to know more about this hypothetical system, and exactly how the proprietary media was constructed.” She arched her eyebrows at him. “It’s a shame it’s only hypothetical. It sounds like an interesting challenge.”

Ianto bit his lip. He’d framed the SoulMatch situation as an imaginary puzzle, not wanting to involve Toshiko directly until he was certain his plan would work, but she’d seen through him in an instant. In retrospect, there was no way she could have thought anything else, and he felt silly for attempting to deceive her. “Well, to be honest…”

She spun her chair toward him. “Okay, truth now. What is this really about?”

“Um.” Ianto’s mind raced, but he couldn’t come up with a plausible lie. “It’s… personal?”

Toshiko removed her glasses to peer critically at him. “A personal project that involves hacking an encrypted database housed on an isolated system running a completely unique OS and using proprietary hardware and media interfaces? You do have the most interesting friends.” She spun back to her desk. “Also, it sounds a little bit illegal.”

“We’re Torchwood. We do illegal all the time.”

“Only in the interest of the public welfare, and something tells me this isn’t about saving the world. Is it?” She stared at him expectantly.

“Please, Tosh. It’s important. To me.”

She gave him a long, searching look, then nodded slowly. “Okay. But I do need more information. Do you think you could get a sample of one of these data keys for me, so I can get an idea what I’m working with?”

“Not without risking imprisonment,” he half-joked. “But maybe I could sneak a photo. Would that help?”

“It won’t help me with the system, but at least I’d know what sort of hardware I’d be dealing with. But the actual key would be best.”

Ianto nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

* * *

His next appointment wasn’t until two days later, and he spent the intervening hours in the tourist office devising schemes to liberate a data key from SoulMatch. He recalled the layout of the examination rooms, plotted a path through the cubicles, and visualized where the blind CCTV corners might be. He even went so far as to drive across town and purchase a prepaid phone from a convenience store he’d never been to before, in case something went wrong and he needed to dispose of his photo evidence quickly—but all his mental scenarios still ended with him in the custody of company security. Was it worth risking his standing with SoulMatch, and all the research Dr. Peters had done up to this point, just to hurry things along? What if they really were still looking for his signum, and he risked losing that information forever if he were caught stealing from the company?

But Dr. Peters and Ms. Braithwaite had spoken freely of concealing the discovery from him. Perhaps they feared that once Ianto had the name of his signum, he might not wish to continue in the study. Were they withholding the information just to keep him dependent on them? If so, how could he trust they would ever reveal the truth?

Still undecided as to his course of action, Ianto was on edge as he entered the SoulMatch building for his regular session. He squirmed as he approached the security line, as though the guards could sense his intent, but the staff on duty greeted him as usual and scanned him through check-in without incident. He hurried on toward the lifts.

As he passed the base of the water tower with its soothing fountain tones, Ianto heard his name. He plastered on his most trustworthy smile and turned to meet Evelyn Braithwaite, who was approaching across the lobby.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones!” She seized his hand in greeting. The cuff bracelet swung on her arm, and he wondered how anyone wearing such bulky jewelry could manage to type. Perhaps Five Star award recipients didn’t have to do their own typing. “Excited for today’s appointment?”

Ianto couldn’t honestly say he was looking forward to it, but he nodded politely. “I’m hoping for good news.” Or good luck. Good anything.

“Well, let’s get you right up to Dr. Peters, then. Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?”

The thought of tea only reminded him of what he’d overheard in the lounge, and he shook his head. “I’d rather just get started.”

“All right. But if you need anything, or if there’s anything we can do to make your experience more pleasant, do let me know. We’re committed to do whatever we can to keep our study participants happy.”

Ianto felt his smile waver, and consciously reinforced it. He should just ask. Give them a chance to volunteer the information they had withheld. “What would make me happiest is finding my signum.”

Ms. Braithwaite flashed her broad white salesman’s grin. “Just as soon as we have a match, Mr. Jones, we’ll let you know.”

Her carefree dishonesty cemented his decision. Ianto followed her to the lifts, resolved to leave with more than a photograph.

* * *

In the end, stealing the data key was far easier than he’d imagined. The storage areas had tight security, but as always, the human element was the weak point. Ianto had spotted one of Dr. Peters’ assistants shuttling files back and forth to her cubicle. After his appointment ended, he waited in the guest lounge until Dr. Peters left the room. Then he’d slipped back in, kicked the prepaid phone into the corner beneath the assistant’s desk, watched for her to return to her seat with a file, then dialed the burner number anonymously from his own Torchwood-augmented mobile. While she rooted beneath the desk searching for the source of the mysterious ring, Ianto simply strolled by, slipped the data key out of the file, and walked out the door with the device in his jacket pocket.

He half expected an alarm to sound as he exited the building, but the staff took no notice of him. All the way back to Mermaid Quay he watched over his shoulder, expecting SoulMatch’s private security to storm his vehicle at every traffic light, but he reached the Hub without incident. Still, he didn’t breathe freely until he was deep in the passages beyond the tourist office, the secret access door locked solidly behind him.

He was still sweating beneath his collar when he set the data key beside Toshiko’s keyboard.

Toshiko looked up in surprise, then glanced around to make certain Owen and Gwen were out of earshot. “That’s the data key? You got it out?”

Ianto nodded and loosened his tie. Toshiko pushed aside the remains of the detonator she’d been dissecting to make space on the edge of the desk. “Here, sit. What happened? You look as though you’re about to faint.”

Ianto gratefully obeyed. “I always thought it would be fun to do all the James Bond spy stuff. Subterfuge, deception, smuggling secret documents. Turns out it’s more stressful than I expected.”

“You seemed to make it out okay.” Toshiko picked up the data key, then frowned. “You’re certain this is _magnetic_ media?”

“That’s what the man said.”

“It’s not shaped like most. You know, it’s odd—there are so many better ways to store data now. Optical, solid state… If they were going to go to all the trouble and expense of establishing their own proprietary system, why would they use outdated media?”

“Well, the United States still keeps their nuclear codes on eight-inch floppy disks. Protection in obsolescence. They can’t be hacked.” Ianto shrugged under her curious look. “I saw it on a television show. Apparently it’s true.”

“Fair enough. But nuclear codes aren’t carried around and used every day. Magnetic media is so much more fragile, especially for something that’s going to be moved around and used all the time.” She examined the key, tracing the shapes of hardware through the translucent plastic case. “This is a strange design, too. I wonder…” She rooted through the detritus on her station until she found a small screwdriver, which she used to split open the case along the seam. She butterflied the pieces on the desk surface. “Ah, I see. You said this system was designed to prevent information theft, right?”

Ianto nodded. “Apparently there’s a high risk of industrial espionage in the matchmaking world.”

“Well, this explains why they were using magnetic media. There’s a built-in failsafe.”

Ianto felt the chill of sweat on his neck again. “A failsafe?”

“Look at this.” She used the screwdriver to indicate a flat brown circle at one end of the key. “This is where the data is stored.”

Ianto peered closer. “Looks like a tiny record.”

“A tiny floppy disk, but same idea. A circle is one of the most practical designs for storing media. CDs, hard drives, vinyl records, they’re all flat rotating plates with data encoded progressively around them.”

“Right. So what’s the failsafe?”

The screwdriver moved to the opposite side of the key and circled over a dense copper coil embedded in the case. “See this coil? The big box it’s connected to, here, looks like a battery. Positive and negative contacts, here. There’s a separate control chip on this end, and this wire running around the edge could function as an antenna.”

“So what does all that mean, for the non-techie?”

Toshiko set down the screwdriver. “I’d have to test it to be sure, but I’d bet anything that this is a proximity self-destruct system. There’s probably a remote signal that tells the chip when the data key has wandered too far from home, and that switches on the battery. The electric charge turns the copper coil into an electromagnet…”

“…Which erases the magnetic data,” Ianto finished. He swore under his breath.

“I’ll see if I can read or restore any of the data, but if the magnet has been activated, there’s not much hope.” Toshiko looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Ianto. Was the information you needed time-sensitive?”

“Not really, no. It’s just…” He hesitated. He’d been forced to confess to Owen, but Toshiko and Gwen knew nothing about his search for his signum, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for his unfortunate romantic history to be common knowledge. “I have reason to believe something is being kept from me by a… a doctor I’m seeing.”

Toshiko’s expression melted into instant concern, and she touched his arm. “Ianto, are you…?”

“No, I’m fine,” he amended hastily. “I’m not ill or anything. I just really want to know the details of my… test results, and they aren’t disclosing everything they should.”

“Couldn’t you have Owen request the information? I mean, as your personal physician, he should have access to your medical records.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.” Ianto smiled faintly. “But thanks, Tosh, I’ll keep working on it.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry this didn’t work out.”

“Not your fault.” Even so, she looked so apologetic that Ianto felt compelled to lighten the mood. “Would you like a coffee?”

“Thanks, I’d love one.”

Ianto had just reached the kitchenette when he heard the land line ring. He turned automatically to go answer it, only to see Gwen pick up the call across the Hub. Her expression changed into annoyance, and then disbelief. The receiver had scarcely touched the cradle when she called out, “We’ve got a live one, boys and girls. Grab your kit and weapons.”

“A live what, exactly?” Owen appeared at the top of the medical bay steps. “Who was on the phone?”

“That was the police. And you’re not going to believe this…” Gwen’s own eyebrows arched in wonder. “…but witnesses just reported a hit-and-run committed by—and I quote—a talking blowfish.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Hey, kids. Did you miss me?”

Ianto’s vision swayed, and he blinked hard to focus. His ears were still ringing from the close-range revolver shot, so he couldn’t be certain they weren’t playing tricks on him, but the voice he heard corroborated the sight he’d initially refused to believe.

Jack was back.

Again.

Jack flashed that charismatic grin around the room, and his gaze settled expectantly on Ianto. For an instant, Ianto felt the inevitable pull, drawn like a compass needle to Jack’s magnetic charm. But then another sound stopped him—the muffled sob of a mother, slumped on the floor behind him, holding the trembling daughter who had had a gun pressed to her head not ten seconds before.

Instantly, Ianto pushed aside the distraction and returned to the present. The blowfish lay sprawled against the window, just beyond the homeowner he’d gunned down. Owen had his hands pressed over the man’s bleeding wound. Gwen knelt beside the two women, trying to calm them. Toshiko was dialing emergency services.

Jack’s sudden appearance had thrown them all off balance, but it was Gwen who recovered first and took charge. “Ianto, we’ll need to clean up the scene before the ambulance gets here. Can you back the SUV up to the house?”

“Will do.” Ianto crouched beside Owen to retrieve the keys from the doctor’s jacket pocket. The man on the floor was pale and barely conscious, and blood was still oozing through Owen’s fingers. “What do you need for him?”

“Nothing we have in the mobile kit. He needs get to A&E. Just get Flounder out of here fast, so it’s clear for the paramedics.”

The next thirty minutes were a symphony of swift, efficient crisis management: Containing the alien, sterilizing the scene, Retconning the civilians, and staging a cover-up for the local authorities absorbed all of Ianto’s attention. He stayed work-focused all the way back to the Hub, ticking off the necessary tasks in his head as he accomplished them. Move the corpse, log the weapons, sanitize the equipment, file the vehicle report—

“You _left_ us, Jack!” Gwen shouted, shoving Jack hard in the chest. Jack reeled back under the barrage, looking a little less confident than he had when he’d first appeared. Looking… different, somehow.

Ianto let himself look, long and hard, for the first time that evening. He hadn’t allowed his brain to deal with Jack yet; he’d been too focused on the emergency to process all the fresh chaos that would come from acknowledging Jack’s return. But now that the crisis had been contained, he had to face reality: Jack had returned. Jack was here, standing casually in the door to his office, hands tucked in his pockets, as though he’d never abandoned them for months without a word of explanation.

And from the look of things, those months had taken their toll. Jack looked thinner, older, somehow drained of a measure of his ever-flowing vitality. Though he seemed to be in perfect health, Ianto couldn’t recall ever seeing Jack look so weary.

“I found my doctor,” Jack was saying.

From his wistful grin, Ianto could well imagine which Doctor he meant. He’d only caught a glimpse of Torchwood’s mysterious nemesis at Canary Wharf, but he’d recognized the tattered 3D glasses hanging from Jack’s desk lamp the moment he’d arrived at Torchwood Three. Jack had been obsessed with the Doctor for years, judging by his collection of artifacts and souvenirs—and not in the way Yvonne Hartman had been.

But Jack wasn’t sharing this revelation with the enthusiasm Ianto would have expected. Jack glanced around the group without making direct eye contact, and Ianto felt a touch of panic. Was this Jack’s way of letting them down easy? “Are you going back to him?” he blurted.

For an instant, Jack’s eyes connected with Ianto’s, and there was something raw and honest in the gaze. “I came back for you.” Just as quickly, the moment was gone, and Jack swept his gaze to include the rest of the team. “ _All_ of you,” he clarified.

The spark of emotion that had flared to life within Ianto fizzled into ash, and he turned away. What was he doing? He had no business entertaining any such notions about Jack—not when he knew there was no future in it. Jack had left him, and Ianto’s signum had already been identified. He may have fallen for Jack once, mistakenly, but he had long since sealed away those feelings and moved on with his life.

Before they could probe Jack any further about his mysterious disappearance, a shrill beeping sounded from Toshiko’s workstation. “Rift activity,” she announced, and they were off again.

* * *

Captain John Hart’s arrival and absurd retrieval mission kept them all too preoccupied to question the way Jack stepped right back into his role as the leader of Torchwood. To outward appearances, he’d loosened his grip on the reins: Gwen still gave orders and directed the team, while Jack made a show of allowing her to do so. But Hart was an unknown factor, and they needed Jack’s expertise as long as they had to deal with his former partner—and Jack knew it. Ianto dreaded the power struggle that was sure to come as soon as they weren’t facing an immediate crisis. Things had been bad enough when Gwen and Owen had been tussling for control. Ianto knew Owen would fall in line under Jack’s authority, but he wasn’t certain about Gwen.

Ianto also wasn’t certain why Gwen had paired _him_ off with Jack to search the office building Toshiko had identified as the location of one of Hart’s canisters. He’d half expected her to hoard Jack for herself, given the way they had carried on as soon as the two had been alone together. Ianto had seen them on the CCTV, Gwen flashing her engagement ring and batting her doe eyes, and Jack kissing her cheek with more than friendly affection. He’d switched off the screen before he’d seen just how far the congratulations went.

There was no future in their flirtation, of course; Rhys was Gwen’s signum, and Ianto knew she wouldn’t give up a perfect match, no matter what Jack had to offer. But even that knowledge wasn’t enough to stop a twinge of irrational jealousy every time they stood too close together.

On the top floor of the office building, Ianto rifled through desks with unnecessary force while Jack blathered on about photocopiers and office romances. Suddenly it struck Ianto that this was the first time he and Jack had been alone together in _months_. Once, he had felt excitement or anticipation whenever they found themselves alone; now, he just felt wrong-footed and faintly nauseous.

To make matters worse, Jack was trying hard to engage him in friendly conversation. Ianto attempted to redirect the topic to the task at hand, but Jack only made it more personal. “While I was away, I was thinking,” he stammered, the legendary flirt sounding uncannily like a nervous teenager. “Maybe we could… you know, when this is all done… Dinner? A movie?”

Ianto stared back at him. Was Jack asking him on a date? A _proper_ date?

The little spark flared again, and Ianto indulged the fantasy, imagining what it might be like to let Jack take him out. The temptation of having Jack all to himself, of commanding his attention for an entire evening, and—yes, he had to admit—having Jack in his bed again was powerful. He visualized the evening they would spend together: Fine dining somewhere in the city center, nudging each other’s ankles beneath the white tablecloth. Wandering hands in the dark of a cinema. Hurrying back to Ianto’s flat to rediscover each other, making up for the all time Jack had been gone…

 _Gone_. Even as he feasted on Jack’s anxious, hopeful expression, Ianto remembered the suffocation he’d experienced when Jack left, the pain that had driven him to pursue the search for his signum once again. The signum who, he now knew for certain, was out there waiting to be found, maybe as hungry for Ianto as he was for them.

Ianto tamped the spark and set it aside. Jack was not his signum, and that meant they could have no future together. He could no longer deny that some part of him would always love Jack, but Ianto longed for stability, for _real_ love, not just occasional snogs and irregular shagging. Picking up where he’d left off with Jack would only cause more heartache when he finally located his signum and went to be with them.

He had made his choice, he realized, the moment he’d heard Dr. Peters mention his match. He was determined to find the soulmate he was meant for and spend his life with that person, even if it meant giving up Jack, even—he scarcely dared think of it—if it meant giving up Torchwood. He was tired of being lonely and hurting and feeling unloved, and his signum would fix all that.

In the end, no matter what he felt for Jack, he knew that anything between them would be temporary. And after everything that had happened, Ianto needed permanence.

Ianto surfaced from his own deep thoughts to realize that Jack was still waiting for an answer. “No, I don’t think so,” he said softly. Jack’s hopeful expression melted into shock, and Ianto stumbled on. “While you were away, I was thinking, too. Being alone gave me perspective I didn’t have before.” He looked down at his wrist and touched the mark, just visible at the edge of his cuff. “I know what I want now. I know what I _need_. And I’m sorry, Jack, I truly am… but it’s not you.”

For an instant Jack’s face faltered, and there was a flash of _brokenness_ so profound, and so brief, that a heartbeat later Ianto thought he must have imagined it. By then Jack’s impervious facade was back in place, and he pointed to Ianto’s wrist. “So you found your soulmate, then?”

How Ianto _wished_ he could say yes. “Not yet, but I’m close. They’ve found a match.”

“Good.” Jack stepped closer and took his hand, exactly as he’d done to Gwen earlier that day. “You deserve to be happy, Ianto.” He tilted his head to kiss Ianto’s cheek, just as he had Gwen’s, but at the last moment altered his course and kissed him on the mouth. It was a brief, chaste kiss, one that spoke of friendship and farewells, but Jack’s warmth and scent overwhelmed Ianto with all the power they had ever commanded over him. Ianto felt himself softening, wax to Jack’s flame.

All too soon, Jack pulled away. “I’m going to check the roof,” he said abruptly, hurrying through the office doors.

Ianto did not immediately return to his own task of searching the desks. The intensity of his reaction to Jack frightened him, and he swayed where he stood, dazed by the strength of the emotions he thought he’d locked away. The flush of Jack’s kiss still burned his lips, and it was a struggle to remember his reasons for rejecting Jack’s offer.

It wasn’t until several minutes later, as he rifled through drawers while replaying the kiss in his mind, that he realized Jack’s hand had been trembling.


	15. Chapter 15

The rest of the evening went about as well as Ianto might have hoped for an adventure involving an insane ex-whatever of Jack’s. After being threatened at gunpoint, finding Owen bleeding, Toshiko with a head wound, and Gwen poisoned, seeing Jack stagger painfully into the Hub after he’d been broken in half, racing against a time bomb, and—after _everything_ else—watching John Hart kiss Jack full on the mouth, Ianto was tempted to walk off into the night and never return.

He’d hoped, once Hart vanished through the portal, that things would settle down and go back to normal—or whatever passed for normal, for Torchwood. But first they had to avoid themselves for the rest of the night. Jack offered to put them up in a five-star hotel and spring for any extras, which sounded like a fair reward for a job well done.

The team’s first stop, naturally, was the hotel bar.

“Where’s Jack?” asked Gwen, sliding into a seat beside Ianto. “I thought he’d be down here celebrating with the rest of us.”

Toshiko shrugged. “I knocked on his door, but there was no answer.”

“Back less than twenty-four hours, and he’s already brooding on rooftops,” Owen huffed. He had reached the bar first and was already several drinks in, judging by the slur creeping into his words.

“He died,” Ianto said quietly. The others turned to stare at him, and he added, “Earlier, I mean. Hart killed him earlier. Maybe he’s just sleeping it off.”

Gwen frowned. “Why would he need to sleep it off? It’s not a hangover.”

“No, but it hurts. He feels pain just like we do; we’ve all seen him injured. And I’m sure it uses a lot of energy, coming back to life. He was probably just exhausted.”

“Well, you’d know best about his sleeping habits.” Owen took another swig from his bottle, then frowned at Ianto. “For that matter, what’re you doing down here with us? Thought you’d be upstairs getting pounded into the captain’s bed, now he’s back.”

“Owen!” Toshiko gasped, and Gwen slapped the doctor’s arm. Ianto’s face burned, and he twirled his bottle in the ring of condensation that was forming on the wood.

“What?” Owen rolled his eyes. “We all know they’re shagging. No point in pretending we don’t.”

“We’re not,” Ianto snapped. More quietly he added, “Not anymore.”

Owen snorted into his glass, while Gwen and Toshiko gave Ianto awkward, sympathetic glances. A minute or two passed in silence, and then Toshiko stood abruptly. “Well, I’m heading for the spa. Jack said he’d pay for anything we wanted, so I’m going to get a massage and a facial. Anyone coming?”

“Ooh, that sounds brilliant!” Gwen sighed. “I’ll come with you.”

They chattered excitedly about spa treatments as they vanished back into the lobby. Owen signaled the bartender and ordered another drink, then began eying a few young women seated at a pub table a short distance away.

Ianto idly toyed with his empty bottle and declined another when the bartender offered. He didn’t feel like drinking, he wasn’t sleepy, and he had no one to talk to. It seemed the only options were going back to his room and trying to find something on the telly, or joining Toshiko and Gwen for massages… and while the idea of relaxing sounded nice, he wasn’t keen on the idea of a stranger touching him all over just now.

Or he could go try to find Jack. Someone really should check on him, make sure he was really all right. Make sure he hadn’t swanned off to outer space again. But somehow the thought of facing Jack again was even more daunting than submitting himself to a the hands of a masseur.

Ianto groaned and pressed the cold bottle to his flushed forehead. During the months Jack was gone, Ianto thought he had sufficiently distanced himself from his feelings for Jack, but that one brief kiss had reawakened his longing and passion in a way that terrified him. He didn’t fully trust Jack just now, and he certainly didn’t trust himself alone in a room with Jack and a king-sized bed. He’d already made his decision; now he just needed to convince his body to comply.

Ianto tugged his sleeve back and traced the symbol on his wrist, as had become his habit whenever he was feeling melancholy. He knew his signum would be worth waiting for, and he knew prolonging the affair with Jack would only end in pain, but that didn’t make it easier to deny his desire. He would have to avoid being alone with Jack until this madness passed.

With a sigh, Ianto pushed away from the table and trudged toward his hotel room. He might as well sleep while he had the time; after all, it had been a _very_ long day.

* * *

Sixteen hours later, Ianto was grateful that he’d snatched a few hours’ rest while he had the chance. Though they had caught up to their proper timeline in the early morning hours, the rift hadn’t stopped to wait on them. If anything, Hart’s incursion had only irritated the tear in space-time, and it had dumped a week’s worth of alien garbage and foreign beings on them in one afternoon.

The latest crisis was the arrival of a Candelaran scouting expedition—harmless enough to humans, but their flying apparatus gave off some kind of radiation that inverted the flame-retardant properties of lanolin. The hovering football-sized vehicles had accidentally incinerated a dozen sheep on their first pass over Penarth, and were now attempting to flee into the Welsh countryside, where their mothership had landed. It hadn’t taken the aliens long to veer away from the public roadway, leaving the team to clamber over a stone fence and corral them on foot.

“Exploding sheep,” Gwen gasped as she pelted across a field after the zipping ball of light—the last of the Candelaran scouts. “Sheep outnumber people three to one here! Could they have picked a _worse_ country than Wales to land in?”

“New Zealand,” Ianto panted, running beside her. “Seven to one.” The glowing sphere darted to the left and Ianto veered after it, narrowly dodging a deep pit in the ground. “Watch your step,” he called back. “The ground is—”

“Move!” Jack shouted, wholly unnecessarily, as they were already sprinting at top speed. “Get it before it reaches the pod!”

Owen had been in the lead before the alien changed direction, and now he swerved to herd the Candelaran back toward the rest of the team. “Net it!” he shouted, his voice rough from exertion.

A cry sounded from behind Ianto, and he glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see Toshiko crash to the ground. He slowed for an instant, about to turn back, but Jack’s voice snapped his attention back to the front. “Ianto, net! Now!”

Jack and Gwen had taken flanking positions and, like Owen, were now holding their portable interference generators in the air. Ianto fumbled his own unit out of his pocket and held it aloft. The Candelaran, sensing danger, swerved in the air and dove toward Jack.

Jack reeled back, his face blanching in fear, and the generator fell to the ground as he drew his revolver. He fired three rapid shots at the sphere, but it dodged and cut back toward Owen.

“Net!” Owen shouted again. Ianto and Gwen activated their devices, and a sparkling web of energy formed a triangle between them, surrounding the Candelaran. “Jack! We need a stronger field to short out its repulsors!”

A few seconds passed before Jack bent to retrieve his generator. He held it high, and the energy net snapped wider to include his device, turning the triangle into a square. The Candelaran bounced helplessly against the sides a few times.

Finally, with a crackle of static, the sphere plopped into the mud and was still. Gwen pounced on it with a sack. “Gotcha!” she shouted.

Ianto watched Jack closely. He’d recovered quickly, and with his Webley holstered again, he looked his usual confident self. Had Ianto only imagined that look of panic on Jack’s face?

“Tosh?” Owen lowered his generator and jogged back to where Toshiko was struggling to her knees. “You okay?”

“I think so.” She let Owen steady her as she came upright, but grimaced when she tried to put weight on her foot. “It’s my ankle. Turned it in one of those bloody holes.”

“Here, let me see. Steady yourself on my shoulder if you need to.” Owen knelt to probe the injured area.

Assured that Toshiko was not in danger, Gwen stood and tied off the bag. “What the hell was that, Jack?”

“What was what?”

“All that shooting.” Gwen brushed dirt from her knees. “There are houses just over that ridge; a stray shot could hit someone. And I thought you said these things were harmless to humans?”

Jack wiped the sweat from his brow and trudged toward Toshiko. “Just get that thing contained.”

Gwen looked pointedly at the sealed bag in her hands. “Thought I already had, but if you want, I can I let it out and we can play this game all over again.”

“Then get it in the SUV!” Jack snapped. “I want it out of my sight.” He stopped in front of Toshiko and frowned down at Owen. “How bad is it?”

“Nothing broken. Soft tissue injury, probably just a mild strain. Just take it easy, Tosh. I’ve got some cold packs in the SUV.”

“That’s what you get for wearing high heels to chase aliens through a muddy sheep field,” Jack scowled.

She glared at him. “I’m sorry, Jack. When I came in to work this morning, I didn’t realize I needed to dress for a cross-country challenge.”

“Well, you should have. All of you know what Torchwood is like. There’s no telling what we’ll have to face on any given day.” Jack glanced around to assess the team. “Owen, get her back to the SUV. Ianto, I guess you’re the only one left to help me with that ship.”

Ianto squinted at the podlike vehicle in the distance. “What are we doing with it?”

“What we’re _not_ doing is leaving it sitting out in some farmer’s field for anyone to find,” Jack snapped. “Come on.” He trudged off through the high grass, the length of his greatcoat tangling about his legs.

Ianto glanced back at Toshiko and Owen, who were staring incredulously at Jack’s retreating figure. With a helpless shrug, Ianto followed Jack across the field.

* * *

Back at the Hub, the team split quietly to their respective duties. Jack issued a string of orders that could largely be boiled down to “get to work,” then sequestered himself in his office. Owen wrapped Toshiko’s ankle, then vanished into the autopsy bay to address the unusually spiky purple eel that had washed up in Tiger Bay that morning. Gwen cleaned the worst of the mud off of her clothing before diving into redacting police reports from the previous day’s blowfish crime wave. Toshiko propped her injured foot up on her desk and began fiddling with one of the Candelaran propulsion spheres.

Ianto confined the rogue Candelarans in the vaults, hauled their dismantled ship from the garage to a storage room, divested the SUV of mud and grass, and returned to the Hub just in time for the evening coffee break. Since Toshiko was immobilized, he carried the tray of coffee and biscuits to her workstation.

It didn’t take long for the smell of fresh-brewed bliss to attract attention. Gwen left her desk with a sigh and migrated to Toshiko’s area. “Bless you, Ianto,” she murmured, taking her mug. “I could take this intravenously.”

Ianto smiled. “Trust me, orally is better.”

“As the actress said to the bishop.” Owen reached the top of the stairs and made a beeline for the tray. “Mate, that smells amazing.”

“It’s a new blend. Figured we all deserved it, after the last twenty-four hours.”

“ _We_ certainly do,” Owen muttered, shooting a glance toward Jack’s office. “Not sure about _him_. Let’s just split his cup amongst ourselves, shall we?”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. It certainly wasn’t the first time Owen had fomented sedition, but his rebellion was usually grounded in something more significant than…well, grounds.

“I have no objection.” Gwen rolled her eyes, and Ianto braced for an incoming tirade. “I swear, if Jack Harkness gives me one more redundant order, I’m going to test the limits of his immortality. Did you _hear_ how many times he reminded me to log our weapons use today?”

“Don’t let him get under your skin.” Toshiko reached forward to adjust the cold pack on her ankle. “He’s just trying to reassert his authority, now that he’s back. If he puts you off balance, it reinforces his position and makes him look like the more reliable leader.”

Gwen frowned. “Is he, though? I know he knows more about aliens and outer space, but he’s being so bloody _infuriating_. And the way he just fired off those shots today, it was like he wasn’t even thinking of the public’s safety. Or ours.”

From the look he’d seen on Jack’s face, Ianto was inclined to believe Jack hadn’t been thinking at all. His reaction had been purely instinctive, not logical. But what could have caused that? The Candelarans were small and relatively harmless; Jack had nothing to fear from them.

“I guess we’ll just have to trust him. He is the boss, after all,” Toshiko murmured, then added quietly, “annoying as he can be sometimes.”

“You don’t have to defend him,” Owen put in. “He wasn’t any too concerned about your injury, either. And speaking of which—” The doctor reached across and removed the ice pack from her foot. “Give that a rest. It’s been more than twenty minutes. Don’t want to add frostbite to your list of problems.”

Toshiko flexed her toes with a wince and lowered her foot to the floor. “I was going to go look at light fixtures this weekend. I hope I can walk by then, or I’ll have to postpone installation for another week.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Gwen brightened. “How’s the new flat?”

“Lovely, but too dark. It needs more light.” Her eyes fell on the Candelaran sphere on her desk, and she grinned. “Speaking of light, do you want to see what I’ve just done?” She picked up something that looked like the cannibalized remains of a television remote from her desk. “Watch.” She pressed a button, and the alien sphere began glowing with its faint firefly-green light. Another button, and it wobbled and rose a few feet off the desk. It spun in a slow circle, then arced off toward the autopsy bay. “Isn’t it great? I’ve slaved the flight controls to the infrared output from this remote. Just think, we could use it like a drone. Only no propellers, and it’s much more stable. It could be a light source when we’re investigating sites, or we could affix a camera…”

“Get a second one, and we could use them to drop nets on Weevils,” Owen mused. “No more running through smelly sewers.”

“For that matter, why don’t we just have them patrol Cardiff for us?” Gwen grinned. “We can sit here drinking Ianto’s coffee and let them do all the work.”

“Nope. That’s a terrible idea.” The others turned surprised glances on Ianto. “Too many sheep in Wales,” he deadpanned.

Toshiko burst out laughing. “I completely forgot! You’re right, we don’t want any more spontaneous ovine combustion.”

The door to Jack’s office opened, and they turned to see him frowning as he crossed the catwalk. “What’s going on out here? All I can hear is you people laughing.” His eyes fell on the coffee tray. “Were you going to invite me, or just let that get cold?”

Ianto handed him his favorite mug, white with blue stripes. “I knew you’d emerge from your cave eventually. Biscuit?”

Jack shook his head. “No, thanks. I was just—”

There was movement to one side as Toshiko’s sphere finished its circuit of the autopsy bay and hummed lazily back toward her workstation. Jack’s head whipped toward it, and his revolver was in his hand even before the coffee mug smashed into pieces on the walkway. Two shots rang out, one pinging off the surface of the sphere, the other splintering one of the glazed tiles on the far wall.

The shots had skimmed just over Gwen’s head. “For God’s sake, Jack!” she shouted.

Ianto’s ears were still ringing, but he could feel the silence press in on them. Toshiko was huddled in her chair; Owen stared, open-mouthed; Gwen had lunged to one side, her eyes stretched wide in fear.

Jack stood rigid and pale, gun trembling in his hand.

As Ianto’s hearing returned, he could hear the sluggish trickle of coffee filtering through the catwalk grids beneath them to drip into the tidal pool below. Then he heard Jack’s growl.

“What,” Jack breathed, “the _hell?_ ”

Toshiko drew shakily upright. “It’s… one of the spheres from earlier,” she stammered. “I was testing it—”

“I thought I told you to contain those,” Jack hissed. His Webley made its way back into its holster, and there was a collective breath of relief.

“I just thought we could use—”

“I told you I wanted it gone!” Jack twisted on his heel and stormed toward his office. “Get rid of it. And then go home,” he shouted, “all of you.” The door to his office slammed so hard that the glass shook in its frame.

It was a moment before any of them moved. Toshiko lifted wide eyes to Ianto, who was nearest her chair. “I only wanted to…”

“It’s not your fault, Tosh,” Owen cut her off. His eyes were fixed on Jack’s door. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Gwen visibly shook off the fear that had gripped her since the line of Jack’s revolver had crossed her face. “Here, Owen, help me get this thing put away. Tosh, love, can you tell us how to deactivate it? No, don’t stand, you rest that foot. Just tell us what to do.”

Mechanically, Ianto knelt and began to collect the shards of blue and white stoneware from the catwalk.


	16. Chapter 16

Jack’s sternness with the team only increased over the next few days, as he began monitoring their projects and finding more fault with their work than he ever had before he’d left. His hypervigilance made Ianto grateful that his own tasks mostly involved bookkeeping and food service. Jack didn’t have time to read over all the paperwork Ianto submitted, and even in his most critical moments, Jack knew better than to question Ianto’s coffee-making process.

Jack’s striped mug and the Candelaran sphere had been the first casualties of this new regime, but Ianto feared that any respect the rest of the team still had for their leader was bound for the guillotine next. Gwen, usually the most sensitive to Jack’s emotional shifts, was engaged in an ongoing power struggle with him. She pushed the boundaries of her orders and demanded explanations, while Jack deliberately undermined her suggestions and restricted her actions. Toshiko, usually cooperative and obedient, found herself on the receiving end of more than one of Jack’s fits of pique. Her response was to shut down and isolate herself with work, barely engaging with the others. Owen, who Ianto knew still regretted his disloyal actions of months before, didn’t engage in direct confrontation with Jack, but let his resentment flow in complaints and sarcastic jibes behind the captain’s back. Even Ianto, who arguably suffered less direct criticism than the others, chafed under Jack’s perpetually negative attitude.

Through it all, Jack acted as though nothing were amiss, striding boldly into action and making flippant remarks as usual. But the atmosphere was suffocating, and soon Ianto found himself wondering what it would take to send Jack off on another solo adventure so they could get back to fighting aliens in peace.

A few days after the incident with the Candelarans, Ianto was finally on his way to the morgue to incinerate the body of the blowfish—a task which had been repeatedly postponed in favor of more pressing crises—when Jack caught up with him in the corridor. “You busy?” Jack asked, jogging up beside him.

Ianto considered laughing out loud, but feigning joviality sounded exhausting. “Are we ever _not_ busy? Keeping in mind we’ve been down a man for several months, I’m sure you can imagine what my schedule is like.”

“I meant right now.”

“Yes. Right now, I’m on my way to dispose of a body. One with your bullet hole in its head, if you’ll recall.”

Jack shrugged. “It could have been your hole, but I was faster.”

“You always were,” Ianto muttered before he could stop himself. He snapped his jaw shut on the rest of the retort. “I assume you’re following me because you want something in particular?”

Jack scowled at the sharpness of his tone. “I do, as a matter of fact.” Jack’s eyes swept Ianto’s body in a way that probably would have given him chills a few months ago. Now, it just made him feel tired. “If you find yourself with a few minutes to spare, come see me in my office. I wanted to go over some of those incident reports from last month with you.”

Ianto thought of his to-do list and groaned. “Right. At the current pace, I should have something free next Tuesday.”

“It’s a date,” Jack replied automatically. He realized just an instant too late what he’d said, and the words hung awkwardly between them. “Well, in the mean time, you’ve got a hot date with a cold fish. Try not to get too excited. I know what a turn-on fins can be.”

Ianto wondered if it were possible to strain one’s eyes from rolling them too often. Six months earlier, when everything between them had been new and he’d been falling in love, Jack’s saucy remarks had contributed to his devilish attractiveness. Now that Ianto had cast aside the lens of infatuation—and the possibility of indulging Jack’s lewd suggestions—the unending stream of ribald comments was grating.

 “The only thing getting turned on will be the incinerator,” Ianto replied smoothly. “Unless you want me to save any fins for you for your own personal use?”

Jack didn’t have a quick reply to that, and his smug expression turned sour. “Fine, enough joking around. Back to work.” He brushed past, his shoulder just grazing Ianto’s sleeve, and a breath of sandalwood-leather- _whatever_ those magical pheromones were swept over Ianto. The sarcastic retort Ianto was formulating died in a gasp, and his pulse quickened.

As Jack vanished around a corner, Ianto slammed his back against the wall in frustration. No matter how irritating he found the man’s behavior, no matter how often he reminded himself that his signum was waiting for him, no matter how hard he tried to banish his desires, some part of him was _still_ under Jack’s spell. It was _infuriating_.

It wasn’t until he was washing down a capsule with a swig of tepid coffee that evening that he remembered that the pills he was swallowing twice daily were said to enhance feelings of love and affection, in addition to trust. It struck him like a revelation: Hadn’t Owen had told him outright that oxytocin was a common treatment in couples’ therapy? If the chemicals in his system had led him to open up to Owen about his signum, could they also be what was drawing him to Jack, in spite of his better intentions? How ironic it would be if the drugs SoulMatch distributed as part of their study were responsible for undermining his resolve to find his signum.

Of course, it didn’t help matters that _that_ search wasn’t going well, either.

“Any changes to report, Mr. Jones?”

“Nothing new on my end.” Ianto watched Dr. Peters slide the data key into one of the equipment banks beside his padded recliner. The file itself was sitting on top of the machine, and Ianto tried to estimate the distance. Feigning a stretch, he determined it was just out of his reach. “Are you seeing any changes to my mark?”

“Just the gradual increase in pigmentation. It’s fairly common in those who haven’t yet found their match.”

Ianto had noticed that, too. It was difficult not to. “What causes it?”

“That’s one of the things we’re studying,” Dr. Peters replied. “The prevailing theory was that it was triggered by—well, some people call it loneliness, but we’re finding it’s really more about chemistry and hormones.”

Ianto glanced around the room, taking note of the computer terminals and cubicles. All the desks were clear. Security seemed to have been stepped up since he’d absconded with the data key. “The oxytocin?”

Dr. Peters nodded. “We’ve known for decades that feelings of love can trigger changes in brain chemistry—even just fancying someone can leave traces in the brain for over a year. So we assumed that must be part of the mechanism that causes the mark to change. Or stop changing, as the case may be.”

Ianto considered this. “But I’ve been on the oxytocin supplement for weeks, and you say my mark is still getting darker? So it’s evidently not that hormone.”

Dr. Peters chuckled. “We have to try everything, to rule it out. That’s what studies do, you know. It’s a lot of trial and error.”

“But if we’re sure it’s not the oxytocin… Does that mean I can stop taking the pills?”

Dr. Peters looked at him sharply, then showed his teeth in a grin. “It’s really best if you continue taking the supplement, Mr. Jones. We need comprehensive data, and the effects may not show for several weeks.”

Ianto looked at his wrist, the mark highlighted by the blue light of one of the instruments. “It’s just that… You said one of the side effects was that it made you… trust people?”

“That has been observed in some subjects. Not everyone, of course. Why?”

Ianto hesitated before answering. “The place where I work… let’s just say things are really complicated there right now. There’s a lot of tension between my boss and the rest of the staff, and there’s a bit of a power struggle going on. I’m not sure it’s best for me to be taking something that might impede my judgment.”

Dr. Peters chuckled again. “Oh, Mr. Jones, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I can see you’re a man of firm convictions. I’m sure you won’t stray from the path that’s right for you, with or without oxytocin.”

Ianto nearly laughed. Firm convictions? He couldn’t even commit fully to his signum without being distracted by Jack every time the man walked near him. “I’d just feel better if I weren’t taking anything at all right now. It’s sort of a rough patch…”

“Trust me, Mr. Jones, this supplement will do you no harm.” He pulled a full pill bottle from his pocket and pushed it into Ianto’s hand. “But I really must insist you keep taking the pills. You wouldn’t want all the data we’ve gathered so far to have to be discarded, now, would you?”

 _Trust me,_ he’d said. Something didn’t seem quite right about that, given Ianto’s stated concerns. Instinct made him glance at the bottle’s label. “This is a higher dosage than what I was taking before.”

“Phase Three. We’ve tracked your blood hormone levels and the effect on your mark, and now we raise the dose to see if it has any effect in higher quantities. There’s no danger of overdosing; it’s all completely natural. Just keep taking it on the same regular schedule you did with the last dose.”

The hard sell made Ianto even more uncomfortable, but he didn’t force the issue; he had more important information to ferret out. “One more question. Has there been any progress locating my signum?”

Dr. Peters put on a sympathetic expression. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Jones.”

“None at all?” Ianto pressed. “Not even a partial match, or… or anything?”

“Rest assured, Mr. Jones, the moment we have _any_ kind of lead on your signum, we’ll call you immediately. You know we have your best interests at heart.” Dr. Peters patted his shoulder. “That’s all for today. We’ll see you next week.”

Ianto shot a last glance at his file, but Dr. Peters had whisked it beneath his arm before Ianto could begin to formulate a plan to snatch it.


	17. Chapter 17

After two more days of tight-reined command mixed with maddening pulse-flutters whenever Jack stood too close to him, Ianto’s tolerance for Jack’s nonsense was strained to the limit. Under the added stress of yet another potentially world-ending threat, it was bound to shatter.

The others had gone home hours before, shaken by the presence of an alien sleeper agent in their midst and saddened at the way the conflict had played out. Ianto had stayed late to finish cleaning Beth Halloran’s blood off the walls—a thankless enough task—and was scrubbing his hands at the sink in the medical bay when Jack emerged from his office. “Ianto!” he shouted, not bothering to walk across the open space to look for him.

Ianto suppressed a groan. Jack had been in rare form all day, clashing with Gwen, issuing orders, and lording his superior knowledge over the entire team. Ianto had vented his irritation with a few caustic jabs, but the sarcasm hadn’t been as cathartic as he’d hoped. “Down here, sir.”

After a few seconds, Jack appeared at the rail. “Oh, there you are. I’m about to reheat something for dinner. Make me a coffee to go with it?”

Ianto’s eyes rolled freely. “Right away, sir. Would you like it with extra iron, or shall I finish washing the blood off my hands first?”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “What is it with you? All day, you’ve been tetchy and rude. And that business with the mind probe was downright insubordinate.”

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t realize my terms of employment stipulated that I had to be unfailingly pleasant at all times.”

“They don’t, but it would be nice if you’d at least try for civil.” Jack crossed his arms. “What’s going on? You’re not still mad about the duct tape on the SUV, are you? Is the wing mirror still ‘disconcertingly sticky’?”

“No. I cleaned it.” The adhesive residue from Jack’s improvised CB mount had taken Ianto nearly an hour to remove, but he hadn’t really minded. The time in the garage had given him a reprieve from the pressure-cooker climate inside the Hub.

“Then what? Are you angry about something else?”

Ianto turned off the tap and dried his hands, but didn’t answer.

Jack blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Let’s get it over with. What did I do?”

“Do?” Ianto echoed as he turned to face Jack. “Really?”

“Are you going to make me play Twenty Questions to figure it out, or are you going to tell me?”

“I’ll tell you.” Ianto stared up at him and let his frustration froth over. “You disappeared for _months_ , without a word. We didn’t even know if you were alive, much less if you were coming back, but we all pulled together and kept Torchwood going on our own. We worked hard. We made sacrifices. And just when we’d got things running smoothly without you, you suddenly show up, and expect to step right back into the role of leader, no questions asked. And we let you—”

“You _let_ me?” Jack bristled. “I don’t recall needing your _permission_ to lead Torchwood.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You were always our leader, and we respected that, because we knew you valued us as your… your team.”

Jack’s scowl deepened. “And you’re saying I don’t value you now, it that it? You want more pats on the head?”

“You tell me what value you place on us, Jack.” Ianto fought to keep his voice level. “You’ve never once acknowledged what we accomplished while you were gone.”

“Fine. I’m proud of you all for carrying on without me. You did a good job. Happy now?”

His patronizing tone threatened the little control Ianto had left. “No. Because it’s not just that—it’s the way you treat us since you came back, the way you speak to us every day. It seems like nothing we do is good enough for you. You insist on our doing _exactly_ as you say; you punish us for taking the initiative—”

“That’s not true,” Jack protested.

“Tosh came up with a great way to repurpose alien technology, and you reamed her out for it.”

“Because she violated a direct order!” Jack cut in.

“And if we so much as _question_ an order, or try to think for ourselves, you come down on us,” Ianto finished. “Because how dare we mere mortals doubt the word of our all-knowing _master._ ”

At the last word, Jack’s expression set in a rigid mask. “ _Enough._ I make the decisions because I know more than any of you about what we’re up against, and how wrong it can go. You all seem to have forgotten that I am in charge.”

“We haven’t forgotten. Even if we wanted to, you won’t let us.”

“Because I have to keep reminding you,” Jack snapped. “You had some independence while I was gone, and now you all just want to do your own thing—”

“Our _jobs_ , Jack! What we’ve always done. What we’re _good_ at. We don’t need you micromanaging every step; we need you to _listen_ to us. Instead, all you do is order us about.”

“And that’s _my_ job. I run Torchwood. I call the shots.”

Ianto rocked back on his heels, at last seeing the futility of the argument. “Yes, you do. Which is why I’m going to make you a coffee and not poison it. Just don’t expect me to crawl on my knees to deliver it.”

“You know what? Forget the coffee,” Jack scowled. “Go home. You need to cool your head.”

“I haven’t finished the—”

“I said _go home_ ,” Jack repeated. “You stick around here any longer, and I’ll have to assume you like the late nights, and make them mandatory.”

Ianto half expected that remark to be accompanied by a lewd grin or an eyebrow-waggle, but Jack’s expression remained stony. Even so, Ianto didn’t need the reminder of what late nights at the Hub had once meant, and he certainly had no desire to stay and argue with Jack. He buttoned his cuffs as he jogged up the steps. “On my way out now, sir.”

As he went through the cog door, he heard the slam of the hatch over Jack’s bunker. _Shutting out the world_ , Ianto thought morosely. _Just like he_ _’s done with all of us_.

* * *

When Ianto arrived at work the next day, he sensed immediately that Jack was avoiding him. All morning Jack spoke normally with the others, and issued direct instructions to Ianto when necessary, but otherwise gave him a wide berth.

He couldn’t really blame Jack for keeping his distance, after all he’d said the night before. Ianto did feel a sliver of regret for the way he’d lashed out at Jack in his frustration; there had to be some reason for the captain’s change in manner, and perhaps if he’d approached him with civility instead of throwing his complaints in Jack’s face, he might have discovered it. He certainly could have made his point more effectively. But if Jack had been reticent with his feelings before, now he had locked Ianto out completely. Any chance Ianto had of regaining their previous camaraderie had been smashed as surely as Jack’s favorite mug.

Still, now that Jack was avoiding him, he was free of the constant observation and criticism Jack visited on the rest of the team. Ianto had to admit the extra breathing room was liberating. He collected a stack of paperwork and sought deeper refuge in the tourist office.

The morning flew by without interruption, and soon the alarm on his mobile reminded him it was nearly time to leave for his regular SoulMatch appointment. Ianto stared at the notification for a full two minutes, debating. Was it even worth going? What purpose could it serve to continue the study, if they still refused to disclose the identity of his signum?

But SoulMatch held all the cards, and Ianto knew he would come no closer to the information he needed by hiding alone in an office. Perhaps, if he stuck with the study, he could ferret out the name of his signum some other way. Perhaps they would tell him the truth, eventually. Or… perhaps they might let it slip by accident.

Now _there_ was an idea.

Ianto took his paperwork back downstairs—it wouldn’t do to leave it lying around in a street-level office—and made a brief stop in the archives to retrieve a small packet of alien technology before returning to the main level to inform the others that he was leaving. Gwen and Toshiko gave him vague nods, and Owen asked him to pick up some lunch on the way back.

When he turned to leave, Jack was blocking his path to the door. “Where are you going?” Jack asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“I have an appointment,” Ianto replied, less smoothly than he would have liked. “It’s the regular agenda. Twice a week, over lunch. You can check the schedule, if you like.”

Jack frowned. “You didn’t clear it with me.”

Ianto resisted the urge to roll his eyes; he didn’t need to antagonize Jack any more than he already had. “I didn’t realize I had to. I’ve been going for nearly two months. The others all know about it.”

Jack’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Next you’re going to tell me it’s my own fault, because this is one of those things I’d already know about if I hadn’t left.”

_If you hadn_ _’t left, I never would have started the SoulMatch study_ , Ianto thought bitterly. “Jack, I’m going to be late. I’ll be back in an hour and a quarter.”

Jack didn’t step aside. “What kind of appointment?”

“Let him go, Jack.” Owen’s voice carried across the Hub. Both Ianto and Jack turned to stare at him; he had climbed to the top of the medical bay steps to intervene. “It’s a doctor appointment, and I know all about it.”

Jack’s stern expression shifted to one of concern. “A doctor? Why do you need a doctor?”

Ianto glanced at Gwen and Toshiko, who were pretending not to listen to their conversation. “I’d rather not say.”

“Ianto, if you’ve been seeing a doctor twice a week for two months, you need to tell me why.”

Ianto stiffened. “I don’t think I do. I have a certain right to privacy.”

Jack glared, but turned on Owen next. “Owen, if you approved an outside physician, you must have a reason. Tell me what’s going on.”

Owen met Ianto’s eyes before glancing back at Jack. “Can’t. Doctor/patient confidentiality. I’m only obligated to report it to you if it’s going to put anyone in danger, which this isn’t.” He shrugged. “Sorry, but them’s the rules.”

Ianto could see the vein pulsing in Jack’s neck as he controlled his anger, but at last he capitulated. “Fine. Go. But if you’re not back on schedule, I’m revoking future permission for you to leave.”

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. So did the others; even Gwen came to Ianto’s defense. “Jack, he’s not a _prisoner_. Let him go to his doctor appointment.”

“He’d have to go out anyway to pick up lunch,” Toshiko added. “This won’t take much longer.”

In the face of this unanimous insubordination, Jack stormed back into his office and slammed the door. Ianto nodded his thanks to the rest of the team. Their support honestly surprised him—especially given all the times Owen had complained about Ianto taking time away from the Hub—but perhaps they, too, had simply grown tired of Jack’s unreasonable behavior. If the captain didn’t stop making an arse of himself soon, he’d have the entire team set against him.

With one last glance toward Jack’s office, Ianto headed for the cog door.

* * *

After his regular appointment had finished, Ianto made a point of shaking Dr. Peters’ hand just as a group of technicians walked by on their way back from lunch. As the party bustled past them, it was easy to slip the alien microtransmitter he’d taken from the archives into the pocket of Dr. Peters’ lab coat.

If SoulMatch wouldn’t tell him what he wanted to know willingly, he wasn’t above eavesdropping.

Ten minutes later, Ianto was pacing the alley behind the SoulMatch building, his modified Torchwood mobile pressed to his ear. The microtransmitter had a very short range and a limited battery, but he hoped Dr. Peters would say something relevant before it died. He had to endure several boring client consultations before the extended rustle of fabric indicated that Dr. Peters was walking to another part of the building.

“You wanted to see me?” Ianto heard at last, muddled by the fabric and the poor reception. It sounded like Evelyn Braithwaite’s voice.

“It’s about Mr. Ianto Jones,” Dr. Peters’ voice replied. Ianto’s heart raced, and he boosted the volume on his mobile to maximum.

“Yes, I saw him coming in today. What’s his status?”

“Good news and bad news. We’ve identified his signum.”

“I thought you already had done.”

“We had the name and serial number. But now we know exactly _who_ it is.” There was a rustle of papers. “And as you might expect from the nature of the mark, it’s trouble.”

“Oh, my. That is a surprise.” Ms. Braithwaite chuckled. “You know, given his profile, I would have guessed his match would be more the fragile blonde type. Do you have a location yet?”

“Yes—and that’s part of the problem. Our system has begun picking up that serial locally. Here’s the tra… data from…”

The audio faded out in a soft crackle of static, and Ianto pressed the mobile harder into his ear, willing the transmitter to last a little longer. It wavered in and out, teasing him with incomprehensible phrases.

“…ven’t realized it, even though…”

“…suspicious. I don’t think we should risk telling Jo…”

“…less you think Jones himself can convince…”

“…leverage to… nd to our s…”

The transmission sputtered and faded into nothing, and Ianto wanted to hurl his phone against the gleaming glass and steel of SoulMatch headquarters. He’d been so close! Though they hadn’t spoken the name of his signum, he might have gleaned something useful if he’d heard more of the conversation. All he’d managed to learn was that his signum was apparently not a fragile blonde—for all the help that was. Ianto didn’t think he’d ever fancied a fragile blonde in his life. He preferred his women spirited and intelligent, and his men… well. There had only really been one man, and one data point probably wasn’t enough to chart a type. Anyway, he had always been more attracted to brunettes.

And whoever his signum was, the SoulMatch staff found something about the match troubling. What could that mean?

He’d confirmed something else important, though: They were knowingly keeping him in the dark, even though they now had his signum’s name _and_ location. Which meant they were deliberately stringing him along, manipulating him, keeping him in the study for their own purposes. Ianto shivered as he realized just how many of their pills he’d swallowed, blindly trusting that Dr. Peters had indeed had his best interests at heart.

Suddenly Ianto’s mobile display lit up with Jack’s number, and with dismay he realized how long he’d been absent from the Hub. He reluctantly accepted the call.

“Where the hell are you?” Jack’s voice stabbed his ear. “You said an hour and a quarter. It’s been almost two hours.”

Ianto winced and toggled the volume back down. “Sorry, I was… delayed. I’m on my way back now.”

“Well, hurry it up. There’s been a rift alert, and I want everyone on hand in case Gwen and Toshiko need backup.”

“Right,” Ianto sighed. “Be there in a few minutes.”

* * *

Ianto made it back to the Hub in record time, and made sure Jack saw him enter. Gwen and Toshiko were still out, but despite Jack’s urgency on the phone, everything seemed quiet.

After starting the afternoon coffee brewing, Ianto made his way to the medical bay. “Owen? Your lunch is here, whenever you finish with… that.”

Owen looked up from the alien corpse he was dissecting, a lumpy biped with pink-tinged fur. “Thanks, mate. I should be wrapped up in about fifteen minutes.”

Ianto nodded, glanced over his shoulder, then ventured down a few more steps. “Have you got a minute?”

“Sure. I don’t think this bloke’s going anywhere.” Owen tried to scratch his nose against his shoulder. “Just don’t ask me to touch anything.”

Ianto eyed the doctor’s nitrile gloves, slick with alien body fluids and gore, and made a mental note to deliver Owen’s coffee in a disposable cup. “I just wondered if you’d had a chance to analyze those pills yet.”

“Pills?” Owen stared blankly at him.

Ianto held up the latest bottle Dr. Peters had given him. “My prescription?”

“Oh, right! No, I haven’t had the time. Jack came back and everything went to hell. All sorts of things dropping in unscheduled.” He nodded toward the corpse on his autopsy table.

“Right. Well, if you get the chance, I’d appreciate your analysis.”

Owen cocked his head to one side. “Why? I got the impression you weren’t keen on me investigating.”

“Changed my mind.” Ianto descended the remaining steps, found a sample dish in one of the cabinets, and shook a pill out of his prescription bottle. “Here’s one of the new pills to test. Higher dosage.”

Owen frowned, but nodded. “I’ll get on that as soon as I’m finished with Bagpuss here.”

“Bagpuss?”

“Big cat, bit saggy, pink stripes? You must have seen that show when you were a kid.” Ianto shook his head, and Owen shrugged. “Lucky you. That rag doll scared the shit out of me when I was three. My gran’s the one who made me watch it; said it was ‘wholesome.’ Never trusted anything that woman told me after that.”

Ianto chuckled. “Should I leave you some more of these pills for your own use? They’re said to promote trust.”

Owen shook his head. “I think one of us on questionable drugs is quite enough.”

“One is _more_ than enough,” came a voice from above. Ianto looked up to see Jack braced on the rail, frowning down at them. “You want to tell me what’s in that bottle?”

Ianto groaned inwardly. Trust Jack to revive their earlier argument once Gwen and Toshiko were out of the picture. “Haven’t we been over this? Privacy? Confidentiality?”

“Potential liability?” Jack shot a look at Owen, who shook his head and went back to his dissection. Jack’s scowl deepened. “Fine. Ianto, my office, now.” He whirled and stalked off.

As Ianto reluctantly moved to follow, Owen caught his attention. “Don’t let him bully you,” the doctor said in a low voice. “You have every right to keep your medical history private.”

Ianto nodded a silent thanks and climbed the stairs.


	18. Chapter 18

The moment Ianto closed the office door behind him, Jack whirled on him. “What’s going on, Ianto?”

Ianto merely raised his eyebrows. “Sir?”

“You and Owen, down there. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I was discussing a personal matter with my doctor. I don’t see why that’s cause for alarm.”

“No.” Jack stepped closer, staring Ianto down. “You were asking Owen to run tests on some drugs you’re taking. But no one’s told me what drugs, or why you’re taking them. And there are only two reasons I can think of for that: One is if you know I’m not going to like the answer, and the other is pure, stubborn insubordination. I don’t even know which is more likely, in your case. I feel like I hardly know you anymore.”

“Insubordination?” Ianto choked out a laugh. “With you bearing down on us all the time, it’s a wonder we aren’t _all_ on drugs.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said last night.”

“That I’m too bossy?” Jack sneered.

“That you’re not _paying attention_.” Ianto slashed a hand through the air. “Look at us, Jack. Really _look_ at what we do. Look at what we’ve been through. I know you haven’t been around these past few months to see, but…”

Jack cut him off. “Okay, look, I know you’re mad about me leaving, but can we drop it already?”

“This isn’t about you. It’s about the rest of us. While you were off frolicking with the Doctor, we all stepped up to fill the hole you left. We each took on part of your duties. We made sacrifices to keep this city safe. We worked ourselves to exhaustion until we got our feet under us, and we’re still recovering.”

“So am I—”

“And it doesn’t help that you keep trying to reassert your authority at every turn. We kept Torchwood running on our own, but now you act as though we don’t know how to do our jobs. You’re making everything harder than it needs to be.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced the width of the office. “You used to trust us.”

“And that got me a bullet in the head,” Jack returned. He waved aside Ianto’s protest. “No, I’m not still angry about it. It’s in the past. I just mean that sometimes, when I’m not involved, bad decisions get made and people get hurt. I’m trying to prevent that.”

“What you’re _preventing_ is our ability to get anything done with reasonable efficiency. We can’t do anything without looking over our shoulders for your approval. You once valued independent thought. Now it seems all you want to do is control us.”

Jack bristled. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then why am I here?” Ianto faced him squarely. “I don’t want to discuss my medication, so you naturally assume I’m keeping some big, dark secret from you?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time!”

Ianto went very still, his cheeks growing cold as the blood drained from his face. Then he turned abruptly toward the door. “We’re done.”

An instant later, Jack scrambled after him. “Ianto, wait. Wait!” Jack reached the door one step ahead of him and threw his back against it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Ianto stood rigid before the door. “Please stand aside, sir. I want to leave.”

“Just… wait. Give me a minute. Please.” Jack’s face, no longer hard with anger, was creased with anxiety. “Just… let me talk through this. Please? Let me try to explain. Then you can go.” He swallowed and stepped away from the door. “Please.”

Ianto stared at him for a moment before giving a curt nod. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Jack sagged against the wall. “Look… I realize things haven’t been right between us for a long time. I know it’s been hard on you—all of you—since I came back.” He drew a steadying breath. “It’s been hard on me, too.”

Ianto did not reply, but nodded for him to continue.

“I’m not trying to control you. It’s just…” Jack took a moment to gather his thoughts. “When Owen said you were being treated by another doctor, I was worried. I mean, the only reason I could think of that you’d go to anyone except Owen is if you needed some kind of specialist—a cardiologist, or oncologist, or something. It had to be something serious. And then when you wouldn’t tell me what was wrong…”

“You thought you could bully it out of me?”

Jack shook his head. “I guess I panicked. I mean, you used to talk to me. You used to confide in me.”

“And you used to trust me.” Ianto saw Jack flinch at the words. “But that was before you left. Things are different now.”

“I guess they are.” Jack’s eyes traced Ianto’s face, and he inched closer, until Ianto could feel the warmth radiating through his shirt. “I wish we could go back to the way things used to be.”

It stung, this sudden appeal for intimacy, coming on the heels of cold anger and insult. Ianto closed his eyes so he wasn’t tempted to do something he’d regret. “ _You_ left, Jack.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for the way I did it. But I had to go. I’d been waiting for so long…”

“It was still your choice.”

“It was my choice to go.” Jack’s voice fell to a whisper. “Not to stay away.”

Ianto blinked Jack’s face back into focus. “What?”

Jack turned away, and for a time Ianto thought he wouldn’t answer. “When I was gone, all that time, with the Doctor, I didn’t… I wasn’t… frolicking.” Jack’s voice cracked, and it was a moment before he continued. “I was held prisoner.”

Ianto cocked an eyebrow. “Since when does the Doctor take prisoners?”

“Not by him. We were both imprisoned.”

“What, and the Doctor couldn’t break you out with a wave of his magic screwdriver?” Jack’s eyes widened, and Ianto heaved a sigh. “Torchwood One, remember? We knew everything there was to know about the Doctor.”

A little of the antagonism crept back into Jack’s manner. “Clearly not everything, or you wouldn’t have been hunting him.”

Ianto groaned. “Yvonne was right. She always thought you were a sympathizer.”

“She didn’t even know him.”

“And you did?” Ianto observed Jack’s tense nod, and suddenly a new thought struck him, one that explained Jack’s longstanding obsession with the Doctor. It had never occurred to him that Torchwood One’s records might have been incomplete, but given how long Jack had worked for the organization, he could easily have tampered with the database. “Jack… Are you a companion?”

Jack released a long breath. “I was. A long, long time ago.” He met Ianto’s gaze. “But when he asked me to travel with him again, I turned him down. I had him bring me back here, as close as he could get to the time I’d left. I would have come back the same day, if possible.” He shrugged helplessly. “I wanted to be here, Ianto.”

It was Ianto’s turn to look away; Jack’s intense, wounded gaze was dredging up too many emotions. “So why leave in the first place?”

“Because I needed answers. I thought the Doctor could help me with my… condition.”

“But he couldn’t.”

“No.” Jack pulled his arms in again, more hugging himself than closing Ianto out. “I’ll be like this forever.”

_Forever_. It was such an impossible thing to imagine. Ianto shivered as he pictured Jack living centuries, _millennia_ in the future. A thousand years after Ianto had been reduced to dust, Jack would still be alive, probably wearing that same cocky grin and making the same awful jokes. Ianto tried to imagine what it would be like to live forever: The concept of watching all of history unfold fascinated him, but at the same time, it seemed such a sad, lonely existence, surviving the world you knew and seeing the great works of man and nature crumble to dust. Outliving everything. Outliving everyone.

“You could have told us,” Ianto said quietly. “If you’d explained from the beginning why you couldn’t return sooner…”

Jack shook his head. “I can’t talk about it.”

“You really don’t trust us any more.”

“It’s not that. I do trust you, it’s just…” He cast about for a few seconds before blurting, “It’s classified. UNIT, top level stuff.”

“Right.” Ianto didn’t put any more faith in the excuse than Jack typically demonstrated in UNIT authority, which he routinely bypassed. But he had caught something like a flash of horror in Jack’s eyes, and decided it would not benefit either of them to press the issue.

Jack shook off the shadows and focused on Ianto again. “So, will you tell me now? About the pills.”

All the anger that had drained away during Jack’s confession rushed back. “After everything I’ve just said, after saying you trust me, you’re _still_ —”

Jack quickly shook his head. “No—that wasn’t meant as an order. Look, if I’ve come across that way, I’m sorry. That was never my intent.”

“How else were we meant to interpret it?” Ianto burst. “You never speak to us except to tell us what to do, or how we’ve done it wrong.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just… while I was gone, I realized…” Jack paced a few steps, aimlessly. Nearly a minute passed before he continued, in a voice scarcely above a whisper. “I think I might be here for a reason. Like _this_ , for a reason. This is my watch, and it’s always going to be.”

“You mean… protecting Cardiff?”

“Protecting the Earth. I’ve seen firsthand just how far off the rails the world can go. I want things done properly, because I’m _terrified_ of what could happen if anything goes wrong. Someone gets their hands on power they shouldn’t have, and…” He shivered. “It’s the end of everything.”

“And keeping us on a short leash is supposed to prevent that?”

Jack sighed. “I guess it isn’t really logical, when you lay it out. But for the last year, I haven’t had control over _anything_ in my life, so… I don’t know, maybe I’ve been trying to compensate for that.”

“The last year?” Ianto frowned. “You were gone less than four months.”

Jack blinked at him, then shook his head. “Right. Time travel. It was a little over a year for me. Not that you can tell by looking,” he added wryly.

Ianto swept his eyes over Jack’s face, taking in the shadows and lines of strain. “I can tell,” he said softly. “I can always tell when something’s weighing on you.”

Jack returned his gaze, and for one rare moment, Ianto glimpsed the fear and loneliness he usually concealed. “And what about you?”

Ianto blinked, too lost in the depths of Jack’s eyes to follow the question. “What?”

“Whatever’s weighing on you. The doctor thing.”

Ianto broke eye contact. “Oh. That’s what you want to know.”

“You don’t have to give me any details you don’t want to,” Jack added quickly, “but I can’t help worrying. Can you just… tell me if you’re okay?”

Jack’s warm, sincere concern finally cracked Ianto’s resistance, and he sighed. “I’m fine, Jack.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Relief eased the lines on Jack’s face, but his eyes were still shadowed with doubt. “You know if… if you’re ever _not_ fine, you know I’ll do whatever I can to help, don’t you?”

Ianto nodded. “I know, Jack.”

Jack returned the nod, then glanced around the office before bringing his eyes back to Ianto. “So… are we okay now?”

Ianto considered the question seriously, and found that he no longer harbored the animosity he’d been nursing for the past few days. “We’re okay. But the rest of the team…”

Jack nodded. “I know. You all are the best at what you do, and I should let you do it. I’ll try to ease off from now on.”

“That’s probably for the best.” Lacking anything more to say, Ianto put his hands in his pockets. “Speaking of which, I should probably, um…”

Jack tipped his head toward the door. “Right. Back to work for both of us. And Ianto…”

Ianto turned back. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” Jack said quietly. “For calling me out. And for…” He gestured vaguely, lacking the words for everything else that had passed between them.

Ianto understood, and nodded in return. “It’s what I’m here for. Well,” he added thoughtfully, “that, and making coffee.”

Jack perked up hopefully. “Would you mind…?”

Ianto smiled—honestly, perhaps, for the first time in days. “Coming right up.”


	19. Chapter 19

When Ianto pulled his Audi into the garage early the next morning, he was stunned to find Owen’s car already parked nearby. He bypassed the tourist office and entered through the secure tunnel that led directly into the Hub, worried that he had missed some emergency that had necessitated the doctor’s staying overnight.

The Hub was still in night mode when he burst through the heavy red door, with only the emergency lights marking his way. The screens at Toshiko’s station were eerily dark. He followed the faint thrum of music to the medical bay, where Owen’s computer speakers were emitting the dreamy beats of Slowdive.

Ianto leaned curiously over the railing. “Didn’t expect to hear shoegaze in here.”

Owen jumped visibly and slapped the volume control to mute the music. “About time you got here. From the way you talk about always getting in before the rest of us, I expected you hours ago.”

Ianto glanced at his watch. It was three minutes to eight, and Owen usually didn’t arrive until close to nine. “Decided to let you take the early shift for once. What special occasion are we celebrating, by the way?”

“The first day of the rest of your life. Come down here. It’s too bloody early to shout.”

Ianto frowned and jogged down the steps, obeying the gravity of Owen’s tone as much as the request. “Is something wrong?”

“Something certainly is. Take a look at this.” Owen tapped a key to shift a display from his local screen to the large monitor on the wall.

Ianto squinted at the readout, but the chemical names and numbers meant little to him. “What am I looking at?”

“It’s the chemical analysis of those pills you gave me. Look here.” The doctor used the mouse pointer to circle a number in the list. “This is oxytocin.”

“Isn’t that what the pills are supposed to contain?”

“It is, but this is _three times_ the prescribed amount. And that’s in one capsule.”

“Could that be a manufacturing error, or something?”

“There are always minor fluctuations due to the granulation and mixing process, but not at that percentage. And overdosing you is a serious issue, but that isn’t the most concerning thing here.” Owen scrolled to show another list of chemicals. “Oxytocin only makes up a small percentage of the total ingredients. There’s a lot more in those capsules than what’s on the label.”

A chill began to creep up Ianto’s spine. “What have I been swallowing for the last two months?”

“That’s a very good question.” Owen pointed out various items on the analysis. “There are traces of the standard pharmaceutical fillers and binders that should normally make up the rest of the capsule, but look here: The bulk of it seems to be some sort of organic matter. Some complex proteins, bits of what look like ruptured cells… Nothing I can identify without a much more thorough lab test and a lot more time, though I’ve got searches running in our medical database for anything with the same molecular structure. And there were some components in here I couldn’t identify at all.” Owen turned away from the screen and crossed his arms. “In short, I’d recommend _against_ finishing out your prescription.”

“Advice noted.” Ianto immediately fished the bottle out of his pocket and handed it to Owen. “Here’s the rest, in case you need to test for anything else.” Owen took the bottle and set it aside, and Ianto again recalled how easy it had been to trust the doctor. “Owen… how long does oxytocin stay in the body?”

“Oxytocin? There’s always some; your body produces it.”

“I mean… the side effects. How long could it affect my behavior after I’ve stopped taking the pills?”

“It takes a pretty high concentration, so not more than a few days at the outside. I’d be more worried about it affecting your memories than your behavior.”

“Memories?” Ianto braced one hand on the edge of the autopsy table. “They didn’t say anything about that. What does it do to your memory?”

“Well, not the memory itself; more the emotional association with memories you already have. It can screw up the way you remember relationships, that sort of thing.”

_Because I needed even more relationship complications_ , Ianto brooded. “So I can’t trust myself. Even my own memory.”

“Nah, it’s not that bad. From what little I’ve read on the subject, it tends to make good memories better and bad memories worse.” The doctor shrugged. “Of course, it all might be moot. There’s no telling what else is in your system right now.”

Ianto shivered. “Right.”

“And the real question is not only _what_ they’ve been giving you, but _why_.”

“One more answer to get from them,” Ianto sighed. “In any case, thanks for the second opinion—” He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the metal catwalk. Jack’s strides, long and solid.

Owen caught his eye. “Do you want Jack to know about this?” he asked quietly.

Ianto hesitated. Even if he and Jack had worked through their communication issues, Jack had been awfully sensitive about Ianto’s condition. At last he shook his head. “I’m not sure how he’d react. The last thing I want is for him to go in guns blazing and spook them before I get the rest of the information I’m looking for.”

Before Owen could ask what information that was, Jack came into view above them. He did an exaggerated double-take at his wristwatch, then propped his arms on the railing. “Owen, you’re here early.”

Owen had closed the window of chemical reports and replaced them with some sort of biological diagram. “Had some work to catch up on. And since I was conveniently bedded down at a flat just round the corner…”

Jack held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear about who or what you pulled last night.” He glanced at Ianto. “What are you doing down there?”

“Taking coffee orders,” Ianto replied smoothly. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like.” Jack tossed him a wink, but it was just banter this time. “Owen, don’t forget about that sample from the hospital…” His words faltered as he caught himself.

Owen’s eyes were too busy rolling to notice Jack’s gaze flicking apologetically toward Ianto. “Yes, I’m well aware. You reminded me twice yesterday.”

“Right. Sorry, couldn’t remember if I’d told you. Lot going on.” Jack hovered uncertainly by the rail for a few seconds longer. “Nice to see you in early. I’ll… be in my office if you need me for anything.”

When he’d gone, Owen stared quizzically up at the space Jack had occupied. Before the doctor could make a remark, Ianto hurried upstairs to start the coffee.

* * *

Gwen dropped the receiver noisily into the cradle. “Tosh!” she called. “Can you remotely disable the phone system of the science department of Cardiff University?”

“I could. Any particular reason?” came Toshiko’s voice, faintly muffled by the portable containment shield she’d erected around her workstation.

“So those bloody scientists stop calling here about that algae bloom,” Gwen shouted back. “Now they’re saying they’ve analyzed it, and it’s biologically impossible for that species to survive in Cardiff Bay. Therefore it’s our problem, and they demand we contribute resources toward its continued study.”

“Until it grows fangs and starts hunting the residents, it’s not our department.” Toshiko unzipped the vinyl door of the containment shield and poked her head out. She tugged the protective mask down just enough to speak. “I thought you were going for the lunch order?”

“I was, but then the call came in. Took me ten minutes to get off the phone.”

“Well quit lollygagging by the phone!” Jack called from his office. “Some of us are hungry.”

“Lollygagging?” Gwen wrinkled her nose. “What century are you living in?”

Jack appeared at the door. “The one that follows the century when I asked you to pick up lunch. Shoo!”

Gwen rolled her eyes, but collected purse and keys and headed for the cog door. Just as she reached the cage, the giant wheel rolled back to admit Ianto. His arms were laden with carrier bags stuffed with foam boxes. “Going somewhere?”

Gwen stared at the bags. “To pick up lunch, unless you’ve done it for me.”

“When no one collected it, the restaurant called to let me know it was getting cold. My mobile number is associated with the account, after all.” Ianto looked up at Jack, who was moving toward them. “Board room?”

“And not a moment too soon.” Eschewing the stairs, Jack vaulted the metal railing and landed beside Ianto. He pulled open one of the bags and poked his face into it. “Which one’s mine?”

“Oi!” Ianto tugged the bag out of his grasp. “You’ll be served with everyone else.”

Jack scowled good-naturedly. “What’s the point of being the boss if you can’t be first in line?”

“If you’re in such a hurry, help me carry the cups and things from the kitchen.”

“Why don’t you get the cups, and I’ll carry the food?”

Ianto fixed him with a knowing look. “Because if you take the food, there’ll be none left by the time the rest of us reach the board room.”

“Compromise: I’ll hold the food while you make the coffee.”

“ _Hold_ ,” Ianto repeated firmly, handing over the bags. “Not _sample_.” He moved to the kitchen and began setting out the team’s mugs.

As he worked, he shot a glance at Jack, who had already sneaked a bite from one of the boxes and was attempting to chew surreptitiously. Their conversation last night had certainly made a difference; Jack had been more cheerful and less intrusive in his interactions with the team today, and he was noticeably more relaxed with Ianto. It was a relief to have the air cleared between them, but it also prompted a twinge of longing for the old times, when their casual banter throughout the workday had led to far less casual interactions after hours.

While Jack tried to hasten Ianto’s progress toward the board room, Gwen returned to replace her things on her desk. She glanced over at Toshiko’s workstation, sealed in its inflatable cube. “Tosh? You coming?”

“What?” Toshiko fumbled with the zipper and leaned outside. “You’re back already? That was quick.”

“Wasn’t quick enough. Ianto got there first.” Gwen flicked her head in the direction toward the kitchenette. “Sounds like lunch will be in the board room, whenever you’re ready.”

“In a minute. Let me clean up first.” Toshiko glanced toward the medical bay. “Owen, did you hear?”

“On my way,” the doctor called from his den.

“Good, everyone’s informed. Let’s go eat.” Jack started to nibble the end of an eggroll he’d pilfered from the bags, then shoved the entire thing into his mouth when he caught Ianto looking.

“When the coffee’s ready.” Ianto gave him a stern look, but Jack simply rolled his eyes and fidgeted with the bags again. “Meed oo in de boaroom,” Jack managed around a mouthful of partially masticated cabbage.

By the time Ianto reached the boardroom with the tray of coffees, Jack was just shoveling the last bite of rice into his mouth. “’Bout time,” he mumbled around his food. “You were two seconds away from losing your last eggroll.”

Ianto tucked a serviette into his collar to protect his tie and collected a pair of chopsticks from the scattered items on the table. “Try it, and you’ll lose something more important,” he replied, clicking his chopsticks in what utterly failed to be a threatening manner. The barb did succeed in drawing a look of interest from Jack, but before he could make an appropriately saucy reply, Gwen cut in.

“So what are you working on, Tosh? I haven’t seen you use a pop-up box in a while.”

Toshiko carefully chewed and swallowed before replying. “Still working on that probe that we collected a couple weeks ago. I removed the detonator, and now I’m extracting the pollen for chemical analysis.”

Jack reached across the table to snag a piece of broccoli from Gwen’s plate. “Pollen?” he asked, deftly dodging the plastic fork she hurled at his head. “What sort of pollen?”

“I don’t know yet—or even if that’s what it is. I’m just calling it that because it’s designed to scatter from the device, like pollen from a plant. It might be anything—fertilizer, poison, some unknown chemical agent. Hence the containment shield. I figured none of us wanted to breathe it.”

“Good call. Let me know what you find out.” Jack glanced around the table. “Gwen? What’re you working on today?”

“Besides fielding calls from marine biologists with overinflated senses of importance? Still working on that UFO sighting from last week.”

“Any progress?”

She nodded. “Traced the incident to an exploding power transformer. Seems a squirrel decided to end it all, and went out with a bang. Took out the power to a whole neighborhood and the community college. I confirmed it with the utility company, and the incident corresponds to the time of the sighting within a ten minute margin. So our ‘mysterious glowing orb over Cowbridge’ seems to be just a charred rodent.”

Toshiko laughed. “You mean for once, a UFO sighting in Cardiff actually has a perfectly rational, earthbound explanation?”

“Take plenty of photos,” Ianto added. “We can use them as proof for our next few cover-ups.”

Gwen shook her head. “Shall I ask the utility to save the squirrel’s corpse for you, as well?”

“Doubt there’s anything more than a smear of carbon left. Have you seen what happens to a body when you put that much voltage through it?” Jack shuddered. “First, the flesh—”

“Jack,” Toshiko cut in, “some of us are still eating.”

“Ah, right. Well, good work, Gwen. Close it up. When you’ve finished the report, I have a couple of old police cases I’d like you to look over. Auto theft. They might be related to that alien salvage ring you cracked a couple months ago. Oh, and Owen—”

The doctor brandished a fork bearing an impaled cube of chicken and aimed it at Jack. “Before you say it again, I’ve already dealt with the bloody hospital sample.”

Jack blinked. “I know. I was just going to say the head surgeon called back to compliment your work. Nice job.” He glanced around the table, then stood abruptly. “All right, I think we’re on track for an early evening! Let’s keep it up, and maybe we can all get off early tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Don’t you dare make a Harkness joke about ‘getting off,’” Gwen warned.

Jack pouted briefly, then reached across the table and snagged another bite of her food. “I’ll be in my office.” He popped a morsel of chicken into his mouth.

“Oi!” Gwen grabbed a sauce packet and tossed it at him. He dodged.

“ _Oi!_ ” Ianto cut in. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your food fights confined to areas that I am not responsible for cleaning!”

“Spoilsport,” Gwen muttered. Jack grinned and ducked out of the room.

He’d been gone less than a minute when Toshiko set aside her chopsticks. “So, who is responsible for this?”

The others blinked at her. “For what?” Owen asked.

“Jack. Haven’t you all noticed? He’s completely different today.” She glanced around. “Well? Is it just me?”

Owen shot a look at Ianto. “Ianto had a word with him last night. At least,” he added with a trace of his old mockery, “I’m assuming it was only a word he had.”

Ianto resisted the urge to contribute to the thrown food mess he was already going to have to clean up. “We talked. I suggested that he was coming across as a little overbearing, and might want to rethink his approach with the team.”

“Well, whatever you said, I’m glad,” Gwen sighed. “I thought he was going to get on me for only closing one small case today, even though I spent most of the morning on hold with the electric company and couldn’t work on anything else.”

“Now we just need to keep him happy. I wonder what was bothering him before?” Toshiko turned to Ianto. “Did he say anything?”

_Other than his time traveling, being held prisoner for a year, fearing for the future of the planet, and taking his stress out on us?_ “Nothing specific,” Ianto hedged. “But I think things should improve from here on out.”


	20. Chapter 20

Jack was so deeply absorbed in paperwork when Ianto entered his office the next morning that he made it all the way to Jack’s desk without the captain appearing to notice. From this close vantage, Ianto could see that the documents Jack was lost in bore the UNIT insignia and a mass of black-barred text. Whatever the report was, it had been heavily redacted. Ianto wondered if it had something to do with Jack’s time away.

Jack continued reading, oblivious, and at last Ianto felt compelled to break the silence. “Good morning, sir.”

Jack jerked upright at the sound. He flipped the folder closed, concealing the document, before looking up. “Morning! Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.”

“Special butler stealth training.” Ianto set down the mug of coffee he was carrying. “I have something for you.”

Jack smiled as he wrapped a hand around the warm stoneware. “Just what I need. Thanks.” The cup was halfway to his lips when recognition struck. Jack froze, then slowly moved the mug away from his face to stare at the familiar pattern—white with four blue stripes. “Ianto, this is…”

Ianto hitched a hip onto the edge of Jack’s desk. “Had to call every charity shop in Cardiff. Place all the way up near Llanishen had one. The last of its kind, it seems.”

“I’ll try not to break this one.” Jack cradled the mug reverently between both hands. “Thank you.”

“Figured you deserved it.”

“What for?”

“You gave every one of us a second chance. Sometimes more than one.” He shrugged, trying to make the statement seem more casual than it was. “Seems like you ought to get one, too.”

Jack met his eyes, then nodded in silent understanding.

While Jack sipped his coffee, Ianto examined him from the corner of his eye. The strain showed, if you knew where to look for it. There was a tightness about the lips, a shadow of anxiety marking the brow. Ianto suspected he was the only one who could see the great effort Jack was expending to project his cool, untouchable facade. He didn’t know exactly what Jack had experienced during his year away, but it had left its mark on his soul. “Were the Candelarans there?” he asked quietly.

Jack’s head jerked up. “What? Where?”

“Wherever you were held prisoner.” When Jack’s expression turned wary, Ianto added, “You seemed… unsettled by them.”

Jack sighed, then set the mug on top of the UNIT folder and folded his hands around it. “No. Not Candelarans. Toclafane.”

“Toclafane? I’ve never heard of them.”

“And God willing, you never will.” Jack shook his head and massaged his eyes with one hand. “They looked a bit similar, that’s all. Floating metallic spheres. It was just… too soon, you know?”

“I’m sorry. If we’d known…”

“I didn’t want to talk about it.” Jack’s fingers curled tight, white-knuckled. “Still don’t, to be honest.”

Ianto’s eyes went to the folder. “Classified?”

Jack followed his gaze. “Yeah. And…” He raised the mug to his lips. “Bad memories,” he murmured into the coffee.

Ianto nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment. It was _almost_ comfortable—not the intimate connection they’d had just after Lisa died, but a sort of quiet understanding that allowed them to enjoy each other’s presence without feeling too vulnerable. It certainly felt less awkward than it had been for the past few weeks, and Ianto hoped it wasn’t just his optimism telling him that Jack was beginning to trust him again.

Perhaps, he mused, that street had to run both ways. Ianto still wasn’t sure what Jack’s reaction would be if he learned about Owen’s test results, but Jack had opened up to him about his year away, so it was only fair that Ianto give him the landscape of his situation. “It was a hormone treatment,” he said suddenly.

Jack blinked up at him. “What?”

Ianto mentally slapped himself; he certainly could have phrased that better. “The pills, I mean. The ones you asked about. They contained a hormone supplement.”

Jack’s eyes flicked over Ianto’s body with a curious look. “You were taking hormones?”

“Not like—I mean, it was just for research.” Jack’s eyes widened, and Ianto scrambled to clarify before Jack could think too much about that statement. “I’m enrolled in a research study. My test group was given those pills to take.”

“Oh.” Ianto couldn’t tell if Jack were relieved or disappointed by the mundane explanation. A second later, Jack frowned. “What kind of research study?”

Ianto resisted the warm flush that crept unbidden up his neck. “Does it matter?”

“Well, assuming that’s where you’ve been going twice a week, I’m wondering what’s so important that you’re taking time off from Torchwood for it.”

Ianto’s shoulders tensed. “Is that a problem?”

Jack caught the warning in his posture and quickly shook his head. “I just mean, research studies are usually voluntary, and you keep telling me how stressed and overworked you’ve been, so it doesn’t seem like something you’d sign up for just out of a desire to benefit science. Is it something health-related? Drug testing, or something?” The edge of concern had returned to his voice.

Ianto looked down and scuffed his toe against the floor. He shouldn’t let Jack continue to worry about his health, but even though Jack already knew about his search for his signum, opening up about it felt more awkward than he’d anticipated.

But it would be nice to talk about it with someone else. Owen knew the situation, but the doctor’s bedside manner wasn’t exactly sympathetic. And Jack had always been there for him, had always supported him…

…Or had he? Was that just the oxytocin talking? With a flush of panic, Ianto tried to recall exactly what Owen had said about the hormone’s effect on memories. Could he trust himself to make _any_ decisions just now?

“Ianto?” Jack prompted. “You okay?”

Ianto glanced over at him. Jack was still staring, only now the crease between his brows was deeper, and there was real worry in his eyes. With a sigh, Ianto shoved aside his own concerns. Mysterious drugs or no, he needed to trust Jack. And he would probably learn the truth eventually, so he might as well get it over with. “It’s at SoulMatch. They’re studying my birthmark.”

Jack’s eyes fell to Ianto’s wrist, and he rotated his chair closer. “So when you told me they’d found a match… Was that part of this study?” Ianto nodded, and Jack softened his voice. “So why aren’t you with your soulmate already?”

Ianto’s throat ached suddenly. How could he begin to summarize all that had happened, all that SoulMatch had put him through? “It’s… complicated.”

“Too complicated to explain?” Before Ianto could reply, Jack held up a hand in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out that way. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on with you.” He lowered the hand to cover Ianto’s on the edge of the desk. “Do you want to talk about it?”

With the warm, gentle pressure on his hand, Ianto suddenly felt he would burst if he didn’t unburden himself. “They haven’t told me who it is. At first, I just thought they were having trouble locating my signum, but now it looks like they’re deliberately withholding the information from me for some reason. I don’t know why. I heard one of the doctors say there was some kind of problem with the match, but I don’t know what that means.”

Jack squeezed his hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

Ianto looked at him in surprise. He’d hardly expected Jack to offer assistance—and in truth, there was a small part of him that was disappointed that Jack was so willing to help him find his soulmate, without even a nominal a fight to win back his affection. But Ianto knew that was unfair, not to mention unreasonable. Even if Jack had asked him out on a date once—even if Jack legitimately cared about his wellbeing, as he seemed to—Ianto knew Jack wasn’t in love with him. In all probability, Jack would be relieved to see Ianto settled with someone else, so he didn’t have to feel awkward about taking up with a new lover. “I don’t know. It depends on whether I can get the name of my signum from my SoulMatch file.”

“Well, that’s easy enough. We have Toshiko hack their system…”

Ianto shook his head. “Already tried. Everything’s stored offline and redundantly protected.”

“I see.” Jack studied him. “What about you? Can I do anything to make it better?”

“Better?”

“Easier. Less stressful.” Jack stood and stepped close to him, warm and solid and present. “You never did give me a straight answer when I asked how you were.”

Ianto tried not to inhale Jack’s scent. “When was this?”

“The night I came back.” Jack stroked a thumb across Ianto’s forehead. “You’ve had a crease here ever since I returned. It wasn’t there when I left. I’m trying to figure out how to make it go away.”

Jack’s hand was warm. Ianto fought the urge to lean into his touch, craving the affection and human contact he’d been deprived of for so many months. It would be so easy to close the distance between them, surrender to the feelings that still stirred whenever Jack came near, and let the man he’d loved so deeply drive away his pain…

_No!_ He was straying from his purpose again. Ianto bit down on the inside of his cheek to focus himself. He couldn’t let drugs or pheromones, whichever was responsible for this irrational longing, override his determination to find his soulmate. Ianto wrapped the fingers of his free hand over the birthmark on his wrist. “I just need to find my signum,” he blurted. “I think that will fix everything.”

Jack nodded and stepped back, letting his hand fall. “Okay. Let me know if I can help.”

Ianto did not let himself explore the options of what Jack’s help might entail. Emotions once again at war with his intellect, it was all he could manage to walk calmly to the door.


	21. Chapter 21

Back at his desk in the tourist office, Ianto stared at his screen for the better part of an hour without accomplishing anything. Without the distraction of challenging work to focus on, his thoughts kept returning to Jack’s office, replaying every moment of the concern and tenderness Jack had shown—and that was the one path Ianto couldn’t afford to let his mind wander down.

At last he gave up the pretense of work and bent all his faculties to consider his present situation. He certainly felt that he was on a better footing with Jack now (aside from that moment of weakness in Jack’s office, of course; he’d have to watch himself), but the matter of SoulMatch, his prescription pills, and above all, his missing signum still weighed heavily on him. He couldn’t allow things things to continue as they were. He needed to take action—but _what?_

Should he confide fully in Jack about what Owen had found in the pills? Would doing so endanger the information about his signum? Jack had been anxious for Ianto’s wellbeing, and revealing what Owen had learned about the pills might push him to act on that fear. If SoulMatch thought Ianto was responsible for an investigation, they might cut him off entirely, or destroy his file, and he could risk losing his signum forever.

But if he said nothing, SoulMatch might continue with their operation—whatever it was—and continue to stall him, or worse yet, dose him with something more powerful than the triple oxytocin he’d been given over the past few weeks. Not to mention whatever chemicals Owen hadn’t been able to identify.

Ianto groaned and dropped his forehead to the desk. No matter what path he chose, there would still be the underlying fear that his decision might have been affected by the residual drugs in his system. How could he confront SoulMatch when he was still effectively under their spell?

Well, he wasn’t likely to learn anything sitting here. Perhaps Owen had discovered something new in his testing. It had been a slow week; even the few tourists who had stumbled across the information office hadn’t wanted anything more than a souvenir magnet, and those were available at the opera house gift shop and a dozen other retailers within a five-minute walk. Besides, in his current mental state it wasn’t as though he could accomplishing anything of value up here. Ianto locked the tourist office and took the lift to the main level of the Hub.

The moment the cog door rolled back, his eyes began to water. Gwen was nowhere to be seen, and Ianto envied Toshiko her containment cube and protective filtration gear as he coughed and scrubbed his burning eyes. Jack’s office doors were closed, and peering through the glass, Ianto could see that the hatch door that led to his bunker was sealed tight. None of the environmental alarms was sounding, though; evidently whatever the noxious odor was, it wasn’t toxic.

A short jog to the medical bay revealed the source of the acrid fumes. Owen was finishing up another alien dissection, his own body shielded by a hazmat suit. This corpse was grey and putrid, and a sickly green ooze emanated from the Y-shaped incision Owen had made in its torso. As Ianto squinted over the railing, Owen tied off the last stitches to close up the corpse. Ianto debated fleeing to someplace with fresh air and coming back later, but he really didn’t want to make two trips through the searing cloud.

“Owen,” he gasped through his handkerchief, “got a question, when you’re free.” He succumbed to a fit of coughing. “Should I be breathing this?” he choked out.

Owen grunted something incomprehensible through the suit’s respirator. When it was clear Ianto didn’t understand, he followed it with a series of hand gestures that Ianto interpreted as instruction to move to the upper level. He did so without delay, climbing nearly all the way to Myfanwy’s aerie before the burning subsided enough for him to breathe without the cloth over his face.

Several minutes later the clang of a slamming freezer door echoed through the open space of the Hub, eerily silent without most of its personnel or its resident pteranodon, who had evidently fled the smell along with the others. Soon Owen joined him on the elevated catwalk, free of the suit but red in the face from holding his breath all the way up the stairs. He slumped over the rail beside Ianto and coughed.

“I may never be the same,” he panted. “That smell is burned into my sinuses. They’re like alien skunks, those Mephitians.” He dropped down onto the walkway’s metal grating, cross-legged. “What’d you want to talk about?”

“Just a moment.” Ianto crossed to a control panel and switched on a set of rarely-used ventilating fans. He normally left them inactive, as the vibration seemed to disturb Myfanwy, but under the circumstances it seemed prudent to pump out as much air as possible. “That should help. Where are the others?”

“If they’re smart, someplace with oxygen. Once the thing’s scent pouch blew, it was like a tear gas strike. I saw Gwen running for the vaults while I was trying to get the hazmat suit on. Tosh is probably still in her containment cube, enjoying purified air.”

That meant they were all out of hearing, at least. Ianto leaned against the rail across from Owen. “I have a question about the pills. You said they were dosing me with three times the oxytocin, yes?”

Owen nodded. “From the capsule I tested, it appears so.”

“What would be the purpose of that, then? Oxytocin is a natural hormone. What advantage could they achieve by overdosing me?”

Owen shrugged. “At best, it might make you more pliable. More trusting. That’s a long shot; not everyone reacts to it the same way. But maybe combined with some of those other unknown compounds, it’s more effective? I don’t know, maybe they wanted to subtly influence you in some way. Make you trust them, or stay in their program. Something like that.”

“They were very insistent that I continue with the research study.” He recalled a conversation with Dr. Peters, and clicked his fingers. “And when I suggested discontinuing the pills, they actually raised my dosage. I wonder if that was the cause?”

Owen nodded thoughtfully. “Subject gets suspicious, they dope him to make him more trusting so he doesn’t leave the program. If there’s any question, nothing shows in his bloodwork because the oxytocin is supposed to be there, and nobody’s testing for the other compounds. It’s a theory. Not medically reliable, but then we don’t know what else they’re using. There could be some other drug administered at the appointments, too.” Owen stared meditatively at the water tower, receding beneath them toward the Hub’s lower levels. “Tell me about these study appointments. What do they do there? What information do you give them?”

Briefly Ianto outlined the usual routine, describing the questions, scans, and blood draws. Owen listened attentively, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Whatever their game is, it has to be a long one. Think the air’s clear down there yet?”

Ianto glanced at the ventilator fans whirring overhead. “Better now. Why?”

“Let’s go down to the lab; I want to take some blood.”

Ianto had seen enough needles in the last two months to last him the decade. He rubbed his arm reflexively. “Is that really necessary?”

“It is if I’m going to compare your current blood chemistry to what’s on record in your file. I want to see if they’ve been doing anything else to you, besides making you more cooperative. And I want to take another look at those unknown proteins, see if I can find anything complimentary in your system that suggests their function.” He flashed a grin that did not reassure Ianto. “I’m gonna pull out the big guns on this one. Use the carboxomide scanners.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds impressive.”

“Alien tech. Advanced neutron path graphing, so Jack says. I haven’t gotten to test drive it yet.”

Ianto frowned. “But what do neutron paths have to do with—”

“Oh, c’mon, it’ll be fun.” Owen stood and urged him toward the medical bay. “We’ve got a mystery to solve. Might as well take the opportunity to play with the new toys.”

* * *

Despite Owen’s assertions, Ianto found nothing fun about having several vials of blood drawn from his arm. Even before he had rolled down his sleeve and secured his cuff, Owen was cheerfully adding samples of blood and capsule powder to the glass chambers of the carboxomide scanner, which resembled nothing so much as a cluster of neon light tubing growing out of an old adding machine. For a few minutes Ianto watched him adjust dials and punch buttons, until the machine ejected a slim sheet of transparent film from a slot on the side. The film was dotted with dozens of tiny triangular holes.

“Fast results,” Owen said approvingly. “Now I just have to remember how to change the settings on this universal punchcard reader Tosh built…” He fiddled with a box connected to his computer, then shoved a stapled packet of coffee-stained paper at Ianto. “Here, check that list and tell me which protocol Telendrien tech uses.”

Ianto skimmed the columns of tiny type in the reference guide. “The Telendrien interface code is 0435-V.” Ianto looked over Owen’s shoulder as he input the code and slid the card into the slot. “So tell me what this thing does, exactly?”

“Among other things, it’s an advanced imaging system. Should give us a better picture of what we’re looking at—in three dimensions, down to the molecular level. There!” Owen straightened and flipped a switch. The machine whirred and vibrated. “This may take a few minutes, if you want to go make coffee or something.”

Ianto couldn’t imagine that the lingering odor in the Hub wouldn’t adversely affect the flavor of coffee, and he had no desire to waste good beans. Restless, he left Owen alone in the medical bay and relocated to the doctor’s workstation. He took care of a few administrative tasks, checked his email, and finally began researching SoulMatch. _Know your enemy_ , he reminded himself. _Or your health care provider. Or_ _… whatever._

He was reading an interview with one of the company’s founders when Toshiko’s voice erupted behind him. “Eureka!”

Ianto turned to see Toshiko emerging from her plastic cocoon, where she’d been sequestered with her analysis equipment for the past few hours. “Been bathing?” he quipped.

Toshiko ignored him. “I’ve got it! Finally!” After a few seconds her broad grin faltered, and she sniffed the air. “Ugh! Has someone been slicing onions?”

Ianto gestured toward the medical bay. “Owen’s necropsy subject got fresh.”

“Smells the opposite, to be honest.” Toshiko squeezed her eyes shut. “Phew, my eyes are burning. I think I was better off in containment.”

The door to Jack’s office swung open and the captain emerged, waving at the air before him. “You should have been here an hour ago, when the damn thing blew.” He glanced up toward the ceiling; the hum of the fans was just audible. “Oh, good call with the exhaust fans, Ianto. Bet we’ve cleared Mermaid Quay with this, though.”

“Disrupted the lunches of a few tourists, but I’ve already reported it as a sewer gas incident.” Ianto spun the chair back to face Owen’s computer. “I even planted complaints on social media. Hashtag ‘offalbasin’ is now trending on Twitter.”

Jack chuckled and turned to Toshiko. “What’ve you got, Tosh? I heard a ‘eureka.’”

Toshiko held up a tablet. “Oh, right. The pollen! I finished the preliminary analysis. It’s definitely organic— _entirely_ organic, in fact. I’ve finally isolated the protein that comprises most of it—that’s what the ‘eureka’ was. The structure is… weird.”

Jack frowned. “Weird, as in dangerous?”

“Not on immediate contact, according to my simulations. It appears to be relatively inert. But we still don’t know for certain what it is or what it’s for. I’m running a comprehensive database search now.” Toshiko set down the tablet and rubbed her face, which bore deep imprints from the elastic of the respirator she’d been wearing. “Hopefully that will turn up a match, so we can figure out exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“You said it’s organic. Some kind of seeds, maybe? Terraforming?”

Toshiko shook her head. “Not nearly that developed. There are a lot of basic building blocks present—amino acids, a few complex proteins—but no tissue. It’s almost like a powder mix for primordial soup.”

Jack came closer and picked up the tablet, scrolling through her results. “Could it be a disease agent, you think?”

“Maybe, but not any kind of virus or bacterium I’ve seen. You might get Owen’s opinion.” She reached over and selected another readout. “Look at this. I’ve isolated only a few complete cell structures in the sample I collected. I’m still waiting on the computer analysis, but to my eye the thing it most closely resembles structurally is nervous tissue. Here’s the 3D render I’ve constructed. See these nodes? But of course that doesn’t make sense for something that would be dispersed through the air.”

“Hang on.” Owen, who had climbed halfway up the stairs to listen, popped his head over the edge. “Tosh, have you got that diagram handy?”

Toshiko retrieved the tablet and walked it over to him. Owen vanished down the stairs with it, and a moment later, shouted, “Ianto! You mind coming down here?”

Jack gave Ianto a curious look as he hurried down the stairs, and he and Toshiko followed close on his heels. Owen glanced up at Jack, then at Ianto. “You okay with them knowing about…?”

Ianto repressed a sigh. “Nothing stays secret for long here, anyway. Go ahead.”

Owen nodded, then pointed to the screen, which displayed a three-dimensional model of some kind of particle. “Tosh, does this look familiar?”

Toshiko’s dark eyes flicked over the readout. “Of course. It’s the proteins I isolated from the sample.”

“Except it isn’t.” Owen toggled to another screen. “ _These_ are your proteins. This—” He split the display between the two images, side-by-side. “—is a model of a protein I isolated from another source, this morning. The carboxomide scanner just finished constructing this image.”

Toshiko stepped closer, looking from one model to another. “But they’re identical!”

“Quite a timely coincidence,” Jack observed. “Where’d you find it?”

“In a prescription pill I analyzed. Whatever it is, some pharmaceutical company is putting it in their capsules. And no, it doesn’t belong there.”

Jack glanced between Toshiko and Owen. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What do pharma companies and alien drones have in common?”

“That,” Owen picked up Ianto’s prescription bottle and handed it to Jack, “is a question I suggest we ask SoulMatch.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Okay, Ianto, start your history lesson.”

Ianto stood beside the boardroom table and swallowed, unaccountably nervous. He had presented information to the team countless times before, but for some reason his personal involvement in this case made him feel pressed beneath the lens of a microscope. It didn’t help that he’d spent most of the previous night researching and compiling information, then made up for the lack of sleep with double-strength coffee, and now he was so caffeinated that his fingers were shaking. He tucked his free hand into his pocket to conceal its trembling as he tapped through the slides he’d prepared.

“SoulMatch, established in April 1996 as a matchmaking service, now an international corporation that’s headquartered right here in Cardiff. The original founders were a small team of entrepreneurs with backgrounds in various industries.” The slide showed a cluster of men and women in nineties-era suits. Ianto’s eyes rested a moment on the face of Evelyn Braithwaite in the lineup. “Background check turns up very little of interest on the executive board—perhaps _too_ little. A handful of millionaires who appear conveniently in the same place at the same time. All of them show average school performance, minimal civic involvement, and no media presence. Among them, not a single scandal, arrest, nor even a parking ticket.”

“Almost as if their records are entirely fictional?” Gwen put in. She’d emerged from the vaults long after Owen’s discovery the previous evening, and was still catching up on the situation.

“Exactly. SoulMatch quickly established itself as the premier signum registry in the world, with the most extensive member database and branches in every major market. A little digging reveals that their major industry competitors, MateFindr and Fairy Godmother, are actually subsidiaries. Lots of dummy corporations involved. Basically, if you’re registered anywhere on the planet, SoulMatch has access to your information.”

“Certainly gives them the competitive matchmaking edge,” Jack observed.

“Their apparent business model is to scan each member’s birthmark, run it through some sort of proprietary cross-reference program they’ve developed, and report back with a list of the most likely matches—or the exact match, in the case of those lucky few.” Ianto tried to keep the wryness out of his voice, but from the look Jack flicked in his direction, he knew he’d failed. “This should lead to happily ever after for the users, and SoulMatch takes a hefty registration fee.”

Gwen glanced around the room. “I take it from that fact that we’re having a briefing on the company that this isn’t the service they’re actually providing, then?”

Ianto shrugged. “It is, on the surface. Their websites boast thousands of testimonials from satisfied customers—including you yourself, Gwen.” He flicked a screenshot onto the display. “You rated MateFindr five stars.”

She grinned sheepishly. “Got me Rhys, didn’t it?”

“So it seems to do just what it says on the tin. But SoulMatch also has a research arm that looks into the science of the birthmarks, and that’s what we’re focusing on now.”

Jack turned to Owen. “You’re up next.”

Ianto sank into his seat as Owen launched into a summary of what he’d found in the oxytocin capsule. Thankfully, Owen was keeping things professional and hadn’t mentioned Ianto’s experience, but Ianto still felt like everyone in the room was staring at him. He knew bringing the rest of the team in was not only correct protocol but the best way to get to the bottom of the situation, but he hated having his private life put on display.

“Hold on a tic.” Gwen waved her hand to interrupt Owen. “Sorry, I really am. I know I came in late. But these pills you analyzed—where did they come from?”

Owen hesitated an instant, and Ianto saved him from the awkward answer. “They’re mine. I was participating in a SoulMatch research study, and they were prescribed for me.”

“You…?” Gwen’s eyes widened fractionally, but she contained her curiosity. “Okay. Sorry, carry on.”

“Tosh’s turn.” Owen slid the remote over to Toshiko, who switched the input over to show her own slides.

“Right. Owen covered what he found in the pills, and that’s more or less the same contents I discovered in the dispersal unit of that drone we recovered from the car park. So either this is a coincidence of statistically astounding proportions, or whoever built that drone has something to do with SoulMatch. If this were any ordinary company, I’d say it was likely a third party contaminating their pharmaceuticals. But given the suspicious things Ianto discovered about their founders, _and_ the fact that they chose to build their international headquarters here in Cardiff…”

“Let’s be realistic— _nobody_ bases a huge multinational corporation in Cardiff unless they’re looking for proximity to the rift,” Jack finished. “Odds are good that SoulMatch is up to something, and aliens are involved somehow. But from what Ianto reports, they’re also very touchy about their security, so we need a way to figure out what they’re doing without tipping them off. Any ideas?”

There was silence for a moment, and then Gwen hesitantly turned to Ianto. “Ianto, is it all right if I ask what you were going there for?”

Ianto suppressed a sigh. _Might as well get it all out in the open._ “My birthmark is a bit… unusual, and it was changing over time, so they asked me to join a study. Supposedly, they were monitoring the effects of lifestyle and environmental factors on birthmark development—things like stress, exercise, hormone levels, sexual activity…” He kept his eyes fixed on the table as he spoke, but in his peripheral vision he saw Jack’s head snap up at that. “The hormone supplement Owen analyzed was given to me as part of the study, ostensibly to test the mark’s reaction to oxytocin.”

“I see.” Gwen frowned thoughtfully. “So if the study is fake, what is their real goal?”

“We don’t know that the study is fake,” Owen put in. “SoulMatch is a big company, and they do rake in a lot of cash matching people up. Maybe they have lots of irons in lots of fires. What we do know is that Ianto was given pills that contain a suspicious substance, and that substance was also present in a drone designed to dump it in the air somewhere over the city.”

“So the goal seems to be to get this organic material, whatever it is, into Cardiff’s citizens,” Toshiko suggested. “Orally, through inhalation, in the water supply, however it’s dispersed. I think the key is to figure out what the substance is and what it’s capable of.”

“But we’ve run out of tests to run,” Owen added. “We know more or less what it’s _made_ of. We don’t know what it _is_.”

“Or what it might do to me,” Ianto put in quietly.

Jack’s eyes fixed on Ianto’s face for a second before he said, “I think we have to assume we’ve all been exposed. If they’ve been dumping this in the atmosphere for who knows how long, all of Cardiff could be affected.” He glanced at Owen, seeking confirmation. “But we haven’t seen any ill effects yet, which means… it could be harmless?”

“Could be. Or it could be something very slow-acting.” Owen shrugged. “Either way, it’s business as usual, since we can’t prevent contact if it’s already in the air.”

“Well, keep working. We need to know if it’s dangerous to the population.”

Toshiko shook her head. “I’m not sure how much more we can learn, Jack. We’ve run all the tests we can think of, but this is really a job for someone with a background in organic chemistry.”

Jack frowned. “Where are we going to find an organic chemist that we don’t have to Retcon?”

There was silence for a moment, and then Gwen slapped her hands together. “Tosh! Did you block the phones of the university science department?”

She ducked her head. “I… may have done.”

“Unblock them. We can trade favors: We’ll agree to look at their algae if they look at our mystery powder and give us their analysis.”

Toshiko groaned. “Speaking of jobs we’re not suited for…”

“Hey, we don’t have to promise to _find_ anything. Just look.” Gwen winked and returned to her workstation. “If you’ll pack up a sample kit for them, I’ll make the call.”

“Good thinking, Gwen,” Jack said. “Everyone else, research is key. Look for _anything,_ no matter how tenuous a connection, that might help us learn what SoulMatch is up to.”

* * *

Ianto followed the others out of the boardroom after they were dismissed and felt Jack fall into step just behind him. Sensing a hesitancy in Jack’s movement, he slowed his pace to put distance between them and the team ahead.

Jack moved up beside him. “So, in this study, did they do before-and-after tests?”

Ianto angled his head to look at him. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean, did they look at your birthmark without, say, the hormones or whatever, and then give you the hormones and look at it again afterward to see what was different?”

“Yeah, more or less like that. Why?”

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, when you said they tested the effects of sexual activity…”

Ianto jerked to a halt in the middle of the corridor. Jack slowed, then turned and wandered back when Ianto didn’t move.

“Well?” Jack prompted.

“Jack.” Ianto’s words were clipped. “They did not make me have sex as part of the research study.”

“I didn’t mean—of course they don’t _make_ you…” Jack shrugged. “Not in the lab, anyway. I just wondered…”

“You want to know if I’ve been sleeping with anyone.”

“Well…” Jack scuffed a boot against a stain on the floor. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly asking that…”

Ianto resumed his walk toward the main atrium of the Hub. “If you wanted to know, you could have just asked.”

Jack didn’t move. “Are you?”

Ianto stopped and turned back to him again. “Are you actually asking this time?”

“Yes.”

Ianto’s heart beat faster. He tried to read Jack’s expression, but he had turned toward the wall. “Why does it matter?”

“I just…” The muscles in Jack’s neck corded, then relaxed. “If we go after SoulMatch, I need to know where you stand. I can’t risk divided loyalties.”

It felt as though all of Ianto’s remaining strength drained away with his sigh. “I told you, Jack. All I want is my soulmate.”

Jack rotated slowly toward him, eying him speculatively. “So, that means…”

Ianto closed his eyes. “No. There hasn’t been anyone.” _And there isn_ _’t going to be_ , some malicious internal voice whispered. Ianto’s eyes flew open, and he banished the doubt. He had to hold onto his hope that he would find his match. Somehow, during the investigation, he would find the information that had been withheld from him. “The only thing I want from SoulMatch is the name of my signum. Once I have that, you can toss them into the rift or burn the place to the ground for all I care.”

Jack nodded slowly. “Okay. Just so we understand each other.” He paced off down the corridor, brushing past Ianto’s shoulder.

Ianto gazed after his retreating figure, aching to stop him, but unable to call him back. “I’m not sure we ever will,” he whispered to the empty tunnel.


	23. Chapter 23

The day dragged on, a torpor of uneventful internet searching, file scanning, cross-referencing and data parsing. By mid-afternoon their research had still yielded no fruit, and the team’s energy was beginning to flag.

Ianto knew there was only one thing he could do to improve their hopeless situation. He headed for the coffee machine.

Just as he was measuring out the special blend, Toshiko’s weary voice sounded across the Hub. “Hey, I think I may have found something.”

Owen’s head popped up from the medical bay. “What, no ‘eureka’ this time?”

“I’m not sure it’s eureka-worthy. But it’s kind of interesting—assuming it’s not just a coincidence.”

Ianto left the coffee brewing and joined Toshiko while Gwen alerted Jack in his office. When they had all gathered around the workstation, Toshiko brought up a microfiche image of a news article from the 1970s. “There was an unusual meteor shower in 1976,” she explained. “The last week of July. Reports vary as to the exact times and dates, but all of them agree that the shower lasted for nearly three days. Apparently it was a steady bombardment, visible all around the globe. This article from The Times describes the sky over London being lit up by hundreds of shooting stars.”

“How can a meteor shower happen over the whole world at once?” Ianto asked. “Meteors usually all come from the same direction, don’t they?”

Toshiko nodded. “It’s highly unusual for both hemispheres to experience a shower at the same time. There were all sorts of theories about debris clouds and gravitational effects.” She tabbed through several other newspaper scans. “But here are corresponding articles from Tokyo, New York, Moscow, Hong Kong, Cairo, São Paulo… It looks like it really did happen everywhere.”

“I remember that,” Jack said. “All of Torchwood was on high alert, in case it was some kind of diversion to allow aliens to sneak in undetected.”

“Did any?” asked Gwen.

Jack shook his head. “It was an ordinary meteor shower, from what we could tell. Just unusually long and prolific. Unless you’re saying otherwise, Toshiko?”

Toshiko shrugged. “I don’t have any proof either way. It could be a coincidence, but it seems to have been shortly after that meteor shower that the matching birthmark phenomenon began. There are no records of exactly when or how that started, since nobody noticed it until years later.”

Gwen frowned. “How did they not notice? All babies, suddenly being born with marks on their skin?”

“Birthmarks _did_ occur naturally before that point,” Owen interjected. “Even aside from the soulmate birthmarks, about eighty percent of babies are born with some other kind of pigmentation abnormality. A lot of those marks fade during childhood, but we’ve all got some sort of mole or spot or something that started as a birthmark. Doctors back then wouldn’t have had any reason to suspect that the soulmate marks were different from any other birthmark.”

“So you’re saying not all babies born before the meteor shower developed birthmarks, but _all_ of those born after it did?” Ianto clarified. “Are you proposing the meteor shower somehow caused babies to have birthmarks?”

Toshiko shrugged. “I’m not proposing any particular theory. I’m merely pointing out the correlation of two events. Something to keep in mind while we continue our investigation, in case it’s relevant.”

“Good work, Tosh. Let us know if you find anything else that corresponds to that same time frame. We need more details to see the full picture here.” Jack turned to the others. “As for SoulMatch, since we haven’t turned up much in secondary research, I’m starting to think we need primary sources. I’d like to get in there personally and poke around. What say we go knock on the front door?”

Ianto shook his head. “Not likely. The only people who get past the lobby are registered clients.”

“Maybe one of us could go in undercover?” Gwen offered. “Pose as a new client, get the tour, plant some bugs?”

“Except you’re already in the database,” Owen pointed out. “As soon as they scan your birthmark, they’ll identify you.”

“What about me?” Toshiko put in. “I haven’t got a birthmark. Maybe we could fake one somehow?”

Jack shook his head. “I’d rather have you here, so you can continue working on that analysis with Owen.” He glanced thoughtfully at Gwen again. “Gwen, where’s your birthmark located?”

Gwen stretched the collar of her V-neck blouse to reveal a geometric outline on the point of her right shoulder. Beside it was a small dot of color.

Toshiko craned her neck to see better. “Is that a tattoo of a bee?”

“A honeybee, to go with my honeycomb.” Gwen tapped the hexagonal birthmark—which _did_ rather resemble a honeycomb cell—before turning back to Jack. “Anyway, what does it matter where my mark is?”

“So we can put the new one somewhere else.” Jack picked up a ballpoint from Toshiko’s desk and took her left arm. “I think it should be right… here.” He drew a smiley face on her left forearm. “Owen, what’s the best way to fake a birthmark?”

Owen scratched his head. “I could try injecting—”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Gwen jerked her arm back. “I can make my own fake birthmark, thanks.”

Jack frowned. “No cosmetics. We don’t want it rubbing off when they examine it.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Silly boys. Haven’t you ever heard of self-tanner?”

“Isn’t that just a different kind of cosmetic?”

Toshiko caught on. “Not if it’s DHA-activated!” She turned to Jack. “There are tanning lotions that cause the skin to darken naturally. They simulate the chemical response that happens when skin is exposed to sunlight.”

Gwen nodded. “I’ll make a stencil and layer on the tanner until it looks like a birthmark. It should look more natural, and it’s semi-permanent.”

“As long as you don’t come out orange,” Jack said. “How long will it take?”

“A day or so to develop maximum color. It will last about a week, and if our investigation takes more than a visit or two, I can touch it up again as necessary. That is, if I can get _this_ one off.” Gwen licked her thumb and rubbed at the ink on her arm.

“Okay, it’s at least the start of a plan. Gwen, make yourself a birthmark—something unique,” Jack cautioned. “We don’t need you accidentally landing an extra boyfriend through their database. Ianto, fill Gwen in on the security and layout of the SoulMatch headquarters. Is there anything else we need to address?”

Far above them, there was a screech and a rustle of wings. Ianto looked up to see Myfanwy leave her nest, circle the atrium restlessly, then land on one of the upper catwalks.

Jack frowned. “What’s got her upset?”

“Oh—I forgot,” Ianto said. “I left the ventilator fans running after yesterday’s olfactory adventure. I’ll go shut them off.”

Jack continued discussing details of their operations with the rest of the team as Ianto climbed the twelve flights of stairs to the walkway where he’d spoken with Owen the previous day. Moments after he’d powered off the exhaust fans, the walkway shuddered beneath his feet as four stone of pteranodon dropped onto it from above. Myfanwy squawked and clacked her beak indignantly before turning to preen the underside of one leathery wing.

Ianto groaned. Myfanwy had parked herself between him and the only stairway down. He knew better than to try to push past her, and he lacked any chocolate with which to lure her elsewhere. He’d have to wait for her to get bored or hungry and depart for bluer skies before he could return to the main level of the Hub.

Ianto draped himself over the metal pipe railing and watched the tiny forms of his coworkers moving around below. Toshiko was at her desk; Gwen was on the phone, presumably with the university; Owen had vanished back into his downstairs lair, and Jack was striding along the catwalk outside the hothouse. He did that often, Ianto had noted—usually when there was a lot at stake but he didn’t have an immediate task to occupy his hands. Perhaps it was a nervous habit, or perhaps it was simply the closest he could get to taking a walk to clear his head without leaving the Hub.

Ianto’s gaze drifted to the water tower, receding away from him toward the rift manipulator far below. The multicolored lights of the Hub shimmered along its polished metal sides, except where patches of algae or other discoloration marred the sculpture’s surface. _Good thing that algae bloom hasn_ _’t spread here_ , he thought with a chuckle. _Then it really_ would _be Torchwood_ _’s problem_.

Something nagged at his mind, and he stared harder at the water tower. His eyes traced the falling ripples down the metal structure to the shadowy tidal pools at the base of the structure. There was something about that image… a thought, just out of reach…

“Ianto!” Jack’s voice echoed up the levels to reach him. “You coming down any time soon, or should I send up a change of address form?”

Jack’s strident voice startled Myfanwy out of her grooming routine, and she shook herself and flapped back up to her nest. Ianto hurried to the stairs before she could return and block his way again. “Coming down now, sir,” he called.

As he descended the last step to the main level, his mobile began vibrating in his pocket. Ianto retrieved the device and groaned audibly.

Jack turned at the sound. “Something wrong?”

Ianto dismissed the notification and shook his head. “Just a text reminder to confirm my SoulMatch appointment for tomorrow.”

Jack nodded at the mobile he was in the process of returning to his pocket. “Aren’t you going to confirm?”

Ianto stared at him. “Confirm?” he echoed. “You want me to keep the appointment?”

“Of course. If you dropped out now, it might look suspicious, and we don’t want to tip them off to our investigation. Besides, we need all the inside information we can get.”

“They may be trying to poison me.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I don’t expect you to actually swallow their shady drugs. Just show up for the appointment and play along. Business as usual. You can do it; you’re good at bluffing.”

Ianto doubted he had ever been _that_ good at bluffing, but he dutifully returned the text. “The things I do for Torchwood,” he muttered.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “I thought this was all so you could find your soulmate?” he asked, quietly enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

A pang of guilt pierced Ianto as he realized he’d scarcely thought of his signum since their conversation that morning. He did his best to hide the flinch by fiddling with his mobile. “Of course it is.”


	24. Chapter 24

Jack was just exiting the secret tunnel into the tourist office as Ianto entered the door from the Plass. “Welcome back. How was your appointment?”

“Uncomfortable.” Ianto shrugged out of his dripping overcoat and loosened his tie. “It’s raining, by the way.”

“It’s Cardiff,” Jack returned. “There’s pizza downstairs if you haven’t had lunch.”

“Pizza, eh?” Ianto tried to summon some interest in food, but the visit to SoulMatch had left a sour feeling in his gut. “We’ve reached that level of desperation, have we?”

“Hey, don’t knock the convenience of delivery.” Jack grinned and stepped past him.

“Where are you off to?”

“City Hall. Got a report that some kind of flying device clipped the clock tower and crashed on the roof. Probably just some idiot with a radio glider or something, but I’m checking it out to be sure.” He continued toward the exit.

“Jack…”

Jack turned back, expectant, and Ianto’s words tumbled out. “Are you certain I should continue with the study? I’m not learning anything new, and I’m worried I’ll say or do something to make them suspicious. I feel like I’m being interrogated every time they ask me a question.”

“You’ll do fine,” Jack assured him. “It’s only for a few more days, at most. You’re our inside man, and we need you there.” He squeezed Ianto’s shoulder before stepping out into the afternoon drizzle.

Warmth radiated from Jack’s hand, and Ianto savored the spreading sensation as he watched Jack turn up his collar against the rain. _It_ _’s just the oxytocin_ , he reminded himself. _It_ _’s nothing personal_. Then he remembered that he’d stopped taking the pills days before, and according to Owen, the hormones should have cleared his system by now.

He turned his mind quickly from that troubling conundrum and tried to focus instead on Jack’s words. He knew he should find some kind of satisfaction in his important central role in the operation, but the hour at SoulMatch had drained his capacity for positive thinking, along with his appetite. It was growing more and more difficult to maintain the pretense of trust and openness with Dr. Peters, and exchanging banal pleasantries with Ms. Braithwaite was even more exasperating; when she’d caught him in the lobby as he was leaving, he had struggled so hard to force a smile that he feared she would hear the creak of his clenched teeth.

 _It_ _’s all to learn who your signum is_ , he reminded himself as he hung his dripping coat in the back room. _It_ _’s worth a little unpleasantness now for a lifetime of love and happiness_.

To shake off the lingering unease from his SoulMatch session, Ianto descended to the Hub proper and made his way to Toshiko’s workstation. She often had a way of cheering him up. “Afternoon, Tosh. Anything exciting on?”

Toshiko stripped a pair of nitrile gloves and tossed him a shrug. “Nothing particularly. I’ve been looking at the samples sent over from the university, but this all just looks like normal plant life to me.”

Ianto eyed the microscope on her desk, then squinted at the magnified slides on her screen. “These are all specimens from the algae bloom?” Behind them, the cog door alarm sounded as Gwen entered the Hub.

Toshiko nodded. “I’ve run all the scans I can think of, but as far as I can tell, it’s just boring, ordinary, earthbound algae. They’re right in that it’s a warmer-water species than what would normally be found at this latitude, but there’s nothing alien about it. It certainly didn’t come through the rift. Not a trace of rift energy on it.”

“Well, it was worth it for the trade,” Gwen announced, brandishing a file folder as she jogged up the steps to their workstations. “I just got this from the head of the university science department. Boy, did we light a fire under them when we requested that analysis! They called in all their techs last night, and I just picked up the preliminary report. Owen,” she called toward the medical bay, “you’ll probably want to look at this, too.”

“That was surprisingly fast,” Toshiko agreed. She waited for Owen to join them before holding out her hand for the folder. “Let’s have a look.”

Ianto tried to contain his nervousness as Toshiko paged through the report with Owen peering over her shoulder, but the suspense grated on him. “What does it say?” he burst after a few minutes.

“A lot of what we already knew—proteins, miscellaneous organic components, a lot of basic building blocks. But they did find something else interesting.” She held up a page of dense text, her eyes moving rapidly from side to side as she skimmed it. “We’ll have to look at this more in depth, but it seems our mystery powder has an affinity for some types of organic matter. Specifically, animal tissue.”

Ianto exchanged a glance with Gwen. “What do you mean, affinity?”

Owen took the page from Toshiko and read a few paragraphs. “It looks like it… activates it, somehow. The compound remains inert when exposed to mineral samples or plant tissue, but something about mammalian tissue in particular triggers a metamorphosis in the protein chains. The chemical process is…” He trailed off as he read. “You know, this gives me an idea.” He pushed the paper back into Toshiko’s hands and hurried back to the medical bay.

Gwen cocked her head at Toshiko. “So that’s good news, right? We’ve made progress?”

“Definite progress.” Toshiko continued skimming the report. “It remains to be seen whether or not it’s _good_. We still don’t know what it does to the person it infects—” She glanced apologetically at Ianto. “I mean, exactly how it affects the tissue it’s exposed to.”

Ianto broke away and went to the kitchenette, where he fell into the comforting routine of making coffee. He didn’t need the stimulant just then, but it gave him something to do—and if his hands trembled a little, the coffee machine would take no notice.

* * *

Two hours later, Ianto was back at the coffee station to prepare Torchwood’s third—or was it fourth?—afternoon coffee break. It wasn’t as though he had much else to occupy his time; his research on SoulMatch had reached a disappointing series of dead ends, and he was no help at all with the scientific analysis. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter while he waited for the coffee to brew. He hated feeling so useless, especially when the case was closely connected to him.

The cog door alarm sounded as Jack entered the Hub. “Got a present for you, Tosh,” the captain called. He brandished a plastic garbage bag, distorted by some large framework inside.

“You raided a bin for me? You shouldn’t have, Jack.” Toshiko removed her glasses and swiveled her chair to face him.

Gwen, her left sleeve rolled up above the elbow to expose her birthmark-in-progress, left her workstation to join them. “So what’s in the bag?”

“You tell me.” Jack braced the object against his leg and stripped off the plastic to reveal the battered remains of a mechanical device. “This is just the center of it. It looked like some kind of drone, but it was pretty smashed up after it bounced off the clock tower.”

Toshiko gasped, and Gwen came around Jack’s side for a better look. “Hey, isn’t that—”

“Exactly the same as the one we retrieved a few weeks ago? Yes, I’m certain of it.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve seen one of these before?”

“It’s the same kind of drone the protein pollen came from.” Toshiko knelt by the device. “Looks like the chamber is empty, though. I think we have to assume this one has already detonated and dispersed the powder over the city.”

Jack’s face tightened. “So if we’ve intercepted two of these within just a few weeks…”

“Who knows how many others were launched that _haven_ _’t_ crashed.” Toshiko shook her head. “It all has to be connected somehow. If only we knew what that powder was for!”

Ianto wandered over from the kitchenette, gazing thoughtfully at the device. “Do you suppose…” he hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Go on,” Jack prompted him. “Any theory is worth hearing at this point.”

Ianto tucked his hands in his pockets. It might be a rubbish idea, but… “I was just thinking about that meteor shower Tosh mentioned. The one that happened everywhere at once.”

Jack frowned. “I don’t quite follow you.”

“Well, whoever is behind this seems to be trying to get that powder into the air. And a lot of things falling to earth, all over the planet, would make a good cover for dispersing some chemical or something into the atmosphere.”

Toshiko’s eyes widened. “If the meteor shower were simulated somehow, it would certainly account for how it happened all around the world. Perhaps someone launched a bunch of these pods at once in the upper atmosphere.”

Ianto nodded. “That could have been the first phase. What started the birthmark phenomenon in the first place.”

“And it stands to reason that whoever introduced the birthmarks back then could be the same group that is benefiting most from them now.” Toshiko shook her head. “If we’re right, it’s ingenious, but it’s a long game they’re playing.”

“So you think SoulMatch is behind the drones _and_ the meteor shower?” Gwen glanced from Toshiko to Jack. “But faking like a meteor shower would require much more advanced technology, wouldn’t it?”

Jack nodded. “Dispersal on that scale would have to originate from orbit. That would imply we’re dealing with travelers from space, rather than something that just happened to wash up through the rift.”

Toshiko stood. “I don’t think any of this has been by accident. Someone is putting these things up there, and they’re shielded from our sensors. We got lucky with the first one. I was only able to detect it because the crash damaged its signal scrambler.”

“So if you’re right,” Jack said, “some alien force is deliberately targeting Earth— _all_ of Earth—and has been since the seventies.”

“These things could be all over the planet.” Gwen tapped the drone with the toe of her boot. “We have no way of knowing how widespread this is.”

“I’ll put a call into UNIT, see if they have any reports of downed craft or drones matching this description in other countries.” Jack put a hand on Ianto’s shoulder as he crossed the space toward his office. “Good thinking about the meteors, Ianto.”

Ianto told himself that the warmth radiating through his chest was merely pride from his captain’s words of praise. It could have absolutely nothing to do with the gentle trail of Jack’s fingers gliding from his shoulder to the small of his back as he passed by.


	25. Chapter 25

“Eu-bloody-reka!” Owen’s strident voice burst suddenly from the medical bay. “Somebody bring me a beer. I’ve earned it.”

Gwen, who was fanning her arm with a sheaf of reports, leaned over the medical bay railing. “What did you do?”

“I’ve cloned my birthmark and… actually, I don’t want to explain this more than once. Get Jack down here, will you?”

Gwen returned to her desk to collect the bottle of tanning cream she’d been applying to her arm, then knocked at the door of Jack’s office. “If you’ve finished conferring with UNIT, Owen’s done something brilliant and wants to show off to everyone.”

Ianto assembled a tray of coffee and biscuits before making his way to the medical bay, where everyone except Owen gratefully partook of the liquid energy. Ianto set Owen’s mug a few feet away, safely out of range of the sterile equipment on the table. He thoughtfully placed a bottle of ale beside it, on the off chance that Owen _had_ earned one.

“So what’s the news?” Jack sipped from his mug as he scanned the array of test tubes and petri dishes.

“I’ve made a breakthrough,” Owen announced, spinning in his swivel chair. “And I believe we can officially finger SoulMatch for the drone.”

Jack’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “I officially don’t have any interest in fingering anyone involved with their operation. And that’s _me_ saying that,” he added with a patented Harkness grin.

Owen rolled his eyes. “Yes, Jack, we recognize that your refusal to have sex with the enemy means that it’s serious.”

“So what did you do that merited a ‘eureka’?” Gwen finished daubing the next coat of tanning lotion on her arm with a cotton swab and blew gently across it.

“To start, I took a sample from my own birthmark and cultured it in some artificial skin.” Owen pointed to a tray of sealed containers. Through their clear lids Ianto could glimpse odd patches of cream-colored membrane, some spotted with dark shapes. “Once it was established—which didn’t take long—I ran a battery of tests, including exposing it to the mystery substance Tosh isolated from the drone. And guess what it did?”

“The suspense is killing me.” Jack took another sip of coffee and reached across to collect a biscuit from Ianto’s tray.

“Two things, actually. First, compare the appearance of the original culture…” Owen pushed one container forward. It contained a flap of synthetic skin with a faint tan blob in the center. “…to the treated sample.” He put another container beside it. The mark on this one was dark brown, with hard edges as though it had been stenciled. Ianto glanced down at his own birthmark, which had grown dark and crisp over the past few months.

Toshiko peered at the cultures, fascinated. “The powder intensified the birthmark? How is that possible?”

“I’m still working out the mechanics, but I think you’ll catch on when you see this.” Owen donned a pair of nitrile gloves and unscrewed the lid of the second sample. Picking up a tiny electric probe, he touched it to the artificial skin. Instantly, a branching pattern like a bolt of lightning crazed across the birthmark, leaving pale lines through the darker area of skin.

“A Lichtenburg figure!” Toshiko leaned closer. “Except… it’s in negative. Don’t they usually show up red on skin?”

“Yeah, they do. But wait for it.” Owen withdrew the probe. The lightning pattern remained, stark against the birthmark. Then, as they watched, the edges of the lines began to fade. After a couple of minutes, the birthmark had restored itself.

Jack gave a low whistle. “Okay,” he admitted, setting down his coffee, “that’s interesting.”

“But what does it mean?” Gwen asked. “How did it change the mark?”

“Whatever is in the powder—and Ianto’s capsules—makes whatever is in the birthmark more receptive to electrical impulses,” Owen explained. “The human body is already an electrical powerhouse, but the pigmented section is like its own tiny power grid. It reacts completely differently than other human tissues. And as you just saw, it can automatically restore itself when interrupted by electric current.”

“So, not actually a birthmark, then?” Ianto asked.

“Nope. At least, not in the natural physiological sense. I mean, obviously people are born with them, but it’s not _just_ a melanin deposit.”

“But if it isn’t a birthmark, what is it?” Toshiko glanced between Owen and Jack. “Some kind of implant? A parasite?”

“Nanotech,” Jack said suddenly, clicking his fingers. “It makes sense now—that drone was meant to disperse nanites. Get them into people’s bodies. That’s the reason for the aerial dispersal—the nanites can find their way into a body no matter how they come in contact with it.”

“Nanites, as in the tiny robots?” Gwen frowned. “But I thought Tosh had already scanned the pollen for alien tech.”

“I did,” Toshiko confirmed. “I didn’t find anything. There was no trace of metallic or synthetic elements in the powder. It was all completely organic.”

“Which means it’s probably nanobiotech,” Jack said.

It was Toshiko’s turn to frown. “Nanotech, I’m familiar with. But what’s nano _bio_ tech? And why didn’t it show up in my scans?”

“Because it’s smart. It mimics the body’s own nervous tissue. I don’t know that much about the mechanics of it; it was still in development in my time. Real cutting-edge medical tech. It’s completely organic, designed to adapt to the body with minimal rejection. The big problem with synthetic nanotech was providing the bots with an energy source, but supposedly this stuff would piggyback off the body’s natural processes, powered by body heat and the electricity from nerve impulses. Once it’s installed in the body, bioscans would only pick it up as a slight increase in bioelectric activity—if they could detect it at all.”

“But what’s the point of giving people birthmarks made of tiny robots?” Gwen asked. “I mean, I could see infecting humanity if they were trying to take over the planet or something, but all SoulMatch has done for the past decade is play matchmaker to the world.”

“And if these nanites are in the powder that’s being dumped into the air, why aren’t we all affected?” Toshiko asked. “Why is there an age limit on who has birthmarks?”

“I’m guessing the critical hardware installation has to be done before birth,” Jack said. “Maybe it’s something to do with prenatal development or tissue growth, I don’t know. Or maybe the drone powder is just a firmware update. In any case, it’s something that shouldn’t be in this time and place, and it’s clearly alien in origin, so we need to put a stop to it.”

“How?” Owen asked. “Surgical removal? Because I think most of the population might not agree to that.”

Jack shook his head. “These things aren’t complex enough to think autonomously. They operate remotely, probably on a master signal. If someone’s actively controlling the nanites, there should be a way to shut them off at the source. Ianto,” Jack turned suddenly to him, “you’ve seen their operation. How much _personal_ monitoring are they doing? Unique subjects?”

Ianto thought back to what he’d overheard in the lounge. “Dr. Peters said something about being able to locate a particular person, so I think they must have a way to track individuals geographically.”

Gwen looked aghast. “What, like SatNav? You mean they’re monitoring all of us via GPS?”

“The nanites don’t have that strong a signal,” Jack assured her. “It would take too much power. But if they’re able to locate people…”

“That means they have the ability to triangulate,” Toshiko concluded. “I’ll bet each SoulMatch office is part of a greater wireless communication network.”

Jack nodded. “And if we could hijack that signal, we could at least interfere with their operation. Maybe even order the nanites to self-destruct.”

Gwen bit her lip. “Would that be safe? I mean, if you’re right about the birthmarks, these things are embedded in the bodies of billions of people, including three of us! What happens if they go wrong?”

Owen was probing another of his samples. “Nothing, I think. The components we identified are all compatible with the human body. If they stop functioning as a unit and drift into other tissues, in theory, the body should just reabsorb them.”

“And then what?”

Owen shrugged. “Eventually they’re broken down, filtered like all other toxins in the bloodstream, and excreted out.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “So we find whatever system they’re using, and we take it over. Shut it down if possible.”

“Right,” Ianto murmured. “Just pull the plug on a multi-billion-pound international company with a ten-year head start on infrastructure. Seems simple enough.”

Owen shot him a dark look. “What I’ve always appreciated most about you, Ianto, is your shining optimism.” He stripped his gloves and rolled his neck. “Now that I’ve made my astounding contribution to the world-saving effort for the day, where’s my beer?”


	26. Chapter 26

After a short recess they regrouped upstairs, corralling their chairs into a loose circle around Toshiko’s workstation. Owen had claimed the bottle of ale, so Ianto carried up the remaining coffee mug and set it on his desk. It was only a matter of time before the doctor would want caffeine to counter the soporific effect of the alcohol—and they likely had a lot of work ahead of them tonight.

“So how do we figure out which plug to pull?” Gwen asked, nursing her own mug of coffee. “There are SoulMatch offices in every major city. There can’t be one master switch controlling _all_ of them.”

“We don’t need to shut all the locations down to stop whatever they’re doing,” Jack said. “We just need to stop the signal. If we can figure out who is calling the shots, I’m betting that’s where we’ll find the main control system for the nanites. The rest of the offices are likely just relay stations.”

“Since they’re headquartered here in Cardiff, that could be someone at the local office,” Ianto suggested. “I know at least one of the executive board members is on site, though she’s been posing as a sales rep.”

“There’s something about this that doesn’t add up.” Toshiko tapped her lips thoughtfully with a finger. “If SoulMatch is managing the birthmarks, match algorithms, and geographic location for every single person on the planet under age thirty, that would require a _massive_ amount of processing power. The energy required for that kind of data processing would be off the charts. Not to mention the hardware itself. It would have to be the size of a building, at least. And the waste heat generated…”

“They could be using advanced alien technology,” Gwen said. “Well—it’s obvious they are, isn’t it? But for their computers, I mean.”

“ _We_ _’re_ using advanced alien technology, and the Torchwood mainframe still takes up half a city block,” Toshiko pointed out. “If anything that big came through the rift, it would give off some kind of energy signature that our systems should have picked up.”

“They may have brought it directly by ship,” Jack said. “If we’re right about them faking the meteor shower, they must have had some kind of spacecraft in orbit at one point.”

“But they were using magnetic media,” Ianto put in. “Their computer systems can’t be _that_ advanced, or surely they would have used something more efficient.”

“True,” Toshiko agreed. “I took apart one of their data keys, and it was all mid-nineties level technology. If they’ve been here since the seventies, maybe they’ve simply adapted Earth technology to their needs, rather than smuggling in their own. That would certainly make it easier to set up so many branch offices all over the world without having to land spaceships everywhere.”

“Okay, so assuming they’re using Earth tech, we’d be looking for a big facility with an even bigger heat sink.” Jack paced the small space between desks. “Where could you dump that much energy and not be noticed?”

Owen pitched his empty beer bottle into the recycle bin and crossed to where Ianto had left his coffee. “Energy,” he said, hefting the mug, “is exactly what I need right now.” He took a sip, then grimaced. “Blech, it’s gone cold.” He shot Ianto a look.

Ianto gestured smoothly toward the kitchenette. “There’s a magical white box over there, conveniently labeled with the Torchwood logo on the door. Insert your mug and press the ‘beverage’ button for best results.”

Owen scowled. “Thank you, Ianto, but believe it or not, I do know how a microwave works.”

As the doctor reheated his coffee, Jack continued pacing. “An operation that size would have to draw a lot of power from the local grid, especially if they’re also using electricity to cool the servers…”

Toshiko watched Owen remove his steaming coffee from the microwave, then clapped her hands together. “That’s it!”

Owen startled, splashing coffee onto his hand, and swore volubly. “Tosh, if I end up burned, _you_ _’re_ doing the autopsies for the rest of the week.” He turned on the tap and ran his hand under the cold water. “Beverage setting, my arse. More like _scalding_.”

Toshiko waved her hands for attention. “No, no, that’s just it! Hot water! Don’t you see?” They all stared at her, and she groaned in frustration. “Water can absorb a _tremendous_ amount of heat energy, and right here we have a virtually unlimited supply in constant rotation. They could be using the bay! Even that kind of energy discharge would only raise the local temperature a few degrees before dispersing into the ocean.”

Gwen frowned. “I’m not exactly a marine biologist, but wouldn’t raising the temperature of the bay even a few degrees cause some sort of ecological disaster?”

Ianto caught on. “Like a warm-water algae bloom that defies scientific explanation?”

Toshiko beamed at him. “Exactly! It’s been getting worse for years, right? And when did it start?”

“About the same time the SoulMatch headquarters was constructed…” Ianto hesitated. Something nagged at the back of his mind.

Owen dried his hand on a towel and retrieved his coffee. “So you’re saying the servers are located underwater?”

“But that whole region has been investigated by the science teams from the university, hasn’t it?” asked Gwen. “Wouldn’t someone have noticed if a building-sized computer were sitting under the bay?”

Jack nodded. “We’ve had the boat out in that area ourselves, once or twice. Scanners didn’t pick up anything out of place.”

Something clicked in Ianto’s memory. “Tosh, can you check how much power SoulMatch headquarters pulls from the grid?”

Toshiko spun to her keyboard, and soon had a chart from the city utilities on screen. “A lot. Nearly twice what an office building of its size should, on average.”

“Which is especially interesting,” Ianto said, “considering the building is also covered in solar panels.”

She pulled up the construction specs. “You’re right. That solar array should be able to power most of building on its own. So all that extra power has to be going somewhere.” She looked up at Jack. “Maybe the power source for their processing farm?”

“Maybe. That narrows down the region, but we still don’t know where the computers _are_.”

“Well, if they aren’t underwater…”

_Water._ The image tugged at Ianto’s memory again. There was something there, just out of reach… His eyes followed the constant stream that trickled down the tower shaft and gathered in the tidal pool below.

“Under the bay was my best guess,” Toshiko sighed. “I suppose they could be using traditional cooling methods…”

“Water tower,” Ianto said suddenly.

The others looked up at the tower in the center of the Hub, then turned uncomprehending stares on him. “What about it?” asked Jack.

“The SoulMatch building has a huge central fountain,” Ianto went on. “Like ours, only shaped like a stack of giant boxes, all the way up the middle of the tower. Each of the boxes is big enough to contain a bank of servers. The surface is covered in these tiles—thin metal sheets, lots of them. With the fountain running over them, they could work as a heat sink.”

Toshiko shook her head. “With the amount of heat we’re talking about, I don’t think a single fountain would be enough. Within a few hours, you’d just be recirculating hot water.”

“Only if it’s recirculating. The office tower is only a few blocks from the waterfront. They could be pumping cold water in from the ocean, and dumping the hot water back again. Whence your algae bloom.”

Jack looked thoughtful. “But you can’t use salt water in a fountain, can you? Doesn’t it corrode the pumps?”

Toshiko shrugged. “An operation this big could have its own desalinization plant.” Her hands flew over the keyboard again, and maps of the city’s water and sewer lines appeared on the screen. “Here!” She pointed at a large sewer junction near the SoulMatch office. “About fifteen years ago, the city laid high-capacity storm water drains here, but according to this map they aren’t actually connected to any of the runoff collection points. Seems an order from the city council interrupted the project, and it was never resumed.”

Jack leaned over her shoulder to look. “Dummy lines to conceal the water source for the fountain?”

“Could be. And you could hide a pumping station in any of these warehouses near the waterfront.”

Owen set his coffee carefully on the edge of a desk and slouched into his chair. “So SoulMatch has the means and the opportunity, but we still don’t know their motive.”

“We need to access their computer system,” Jack said. “Find out what data they’re collecting, and what those birthmarks really are. Toshiko?”

Toshiko shook her head. “I tried to hack it before. Their system is locked down tight. No remote access. And Ianto says they store their most sensitive data completely offline. It’s only connected to the computer system when they’re actively using it, and each component has to be manually plugged in. It’s stored in a vault on physical media the rest of the time.”

“How does that work?” Gwen asked. “I mean, if they’re constantly running searches for people’s soulmates, don’t they have to have the database open all the time?”

Ianto shook his head. “Near as I can tell, the search algorithm only returns a code number when it finds a match. That number then has to be matched to an offline file record in order to access the personal data associated with it, and that’s all done by people with special security clearance.” He shrugged. “It’s certainly secure, if it does slow things down a bit.”

Gwen accepted this. “I suppose that’s why they insist on contacting your match for you, rather than giving you the contact information. It must take them time to pull the files.”

“That, and the additional service fee,” Ianto put in dryly.

“But it means those files and terminals have to be accessible to people onsite,” Jack said. “That gives us an opening, if we can get inside the building. We’ll have to infiltrate, all of us, in different departments. We need to collect as much information as we can about what they’re doing, and find a way for Toshiko to access their database. Once we’re hardlined into the computer, we might be able to gain access to that nanite control system.”

“So how do we infiltrate an incredibly security-obsessed corporation?” Owen asked.

Gwen shrugged. “Easy enough. Ianto’s already a member, and I’m nearly done with my new mark. The rest of you can just blend with the crowd and slip in. The way they advertise, I’ll bet there’s dozens of new clients going in every day.”

“And being checked at the door,” Ianto warned. “No one gets past the lobby without scanning a membership card or going through the full intake process.”

Owen rubbed unconsciously at his knee. “I can go in under the pretense of a widower’s consult,” he said reluctantly. “But Jack and Tosh can’t pose as clients. They’re both over thirty.”

“Not according to Tosh’s official records,” Gwen reminded him. “She changed her birth year, remember? And she certainly looks young enough.”

Toshiko flashed her a smile, but shook her head. “But I’d still need a birthmark to go through intake. And if they’re monitoring everyone remotely, it’s possible they’re also scanning for nanites on entry. You’ve already got them in your system, but a self-tanner mark alone may not be enough to get me in.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully. “Owen, what about a cutaneous injection of that nanite culture of yours? Do you think it could get Tosh past the check-in desk?”

The doctor shrugged. “I can whip something up. Can’t guarantee that she won’t register as me, though. I have no idea whether these things have unique IDs.”

“So that just leaves me.” Jack frowned at Gwen. “Are you sure I can’t pass for under thirty?”

She shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, Jack. Maybe thirty-five. If you go through the front door, I think someone at check-in might flag you.”

“On the plus side, you look really good for your age,” Toshiko offered helpfully. “Whatever that is.”

“A _lot_ more than thirty-five. But that doesn’t help me get in.”

Ianto cleared his throat. Jack’s head swiveled toward him instantly, and the others followed when they realized he was staring at Ianto. “What?” Jack prompted when Ianto didn’t speak. “I know that cough. You’ve thought of something.”

“It’s… just an idea,” Ianto murmured. “Not necessarily a good one.”

“Well, we can judge that after we hear it. Share with the class.”

Ianto shifted uncomfortably before holding up a gold card emblazoned with a silver foil linked-hearts logo. “They upgraded my membership for participating in the study.”

Gwen whistled. “Premium member? Nice.”

Ianto nodded. “One of the services now available to me is… um… compatibility counseling.”

Jack stared expectantly. “What does that mean?” he asked when Ianto didn’t continue.

“It means if I, um, meet someone, and they don’t have a matching mark, SoulMatch will do a free analysis to see how likely it is that we’ll—that person and I—whether we would be compatible in a relationship. Based on a range of factors, which are of course proprietary,” he rushed. He could feel the heat creeping up his face, and hated the embarrassment. “It would require us posing as a… a couple.”

The attempts of the rest of the team not to smile knowingly were palpable, but Ianto kept his eyes fixed somewhere in the region of Jack’s shoulder and refused to look. When he finally sneaked a glance at Jack’s face, there was a thoughtful expression on it.

“It could work,” Jack said after a moment. “I go in with you, you flash your card, we go in for the meeting, they declare us incompatible, I storm out first in a fit of dramatic angst, and I slip off to another part of the building while you keep them talking.” He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

Ianto’s relief that Jack hadn’t objected outright to the suggestion of posing as romantic partners was accompanied by a stab of disappointment. _Of course we_ _’d be incompatible_ , he reminded himself. _Jack doesn_ _’t even have a mark, and it didn’t work out between us before_. He had no business feeling hopeful, especially after he’d been the one to end things between them.

Still, it stung that Jack so easily assumed the outcome of the consult. After all, they’d been happy together once. For a short time.

“So when do we go in?” Toshiko asked.

Jack turned to Owen. “How long do you need to get that culture ready?”

The doctor rolled his shoulders. “It’ll take overnight, but if someone delivers meals and I work straight through, I think I can have it ready to go by morning.”

“Okay. Ianto, you’re on food duty.”

“As usual,” Ianto murmured.

Jack ignored him. “Gwen, finish up that phony birthmark, and everybody get your stories ready. We’re going after SoulMatch tomorrow.”


	27. Chapter 27

Ianto let his eyes rove up the glossy steel-and-glass construction of SoulMatch headquarters a block away as he fitted the tiny short-range communicator into his ear canal. “Testing,” he murmured.

Nearer the building, he saw Toshiko pretend to scratch her cheek as she activated her own transmitter. “Receiving,” her voice hummed against his jawbone. “Putting mine on mute now. I’m going in.”

She disappeared through the revolving door, and Ianto glanced along the pavement to spot Owen lounging on a bench a short distance away, pretending to talk on his mobile. “Yeah, everything’s business as usual here,” the doctor was saying in Ianto’s ear. “When’s your boyfriend getting back from his car trip?”

Ianto’s mind stalled for an instant before he caught on to Owen’s code. He was referring to Jack, of course, who had dropped them off at various locations and then gone to hide the SUV. They needed its roof-mounted dish at close proximity to act as a relay for their comms, but the vehicle itself was too conspicuous to park on the street during an undercover operation.

And Jack was, at least for the next few minutes, going to pretend to be Ianto’s boyfriend. Ianto shivered at the thought. He’d spent so much time trying to avoid being too close to Jack, to keep his inappropriate feelings in check, and yet somehow he’d volunteered to play Jack’s lover in this charade. He hoped he didn’t do anything too stupid.

“Should be back any time,” Ianto answered, shaking his hands to eliminate some of the nervous energy. He spotted Jack’s familiar figure coming up the pavement on his side of the street. “In fact, I see him now.”

“Well, I should go,” Owen replied, making a show of glancing at his wristwatch. “Nice talking to you. I’ll call you later.” He tapped the mobile’s screen as though to disconnect, muted his own transmitter, then stood and made his way to the SoulMatch entrance.

Jack was attempting to fit his own earpiece when he reached Ianto. “I hate these tiny things,” he muttered. “Not designed for human ears. Can you hear me?”

“Obviously, but not on the transmitter. Is it powered on?”

Jack fished the little bean-shaped device out with his fingernail. “I can’t tell. They’re supposed to come on automatically.” He flicked it hard with a finger, then poked it back into his ear. “How about now?”

Ianto flinched as the voice repeated in his ear at high volume. “Loud and clear. A little too loud.”

“Sorry,” Jack said in a lower voice. “What’s our status?”

“Gwen went in ten minutes ago, Tosh about five minutes after. Owen just entered a moment ago.”

“Which means it’s our turn.” Jack offered his arm. “Shall we?”

Ianto stared blankly at Jack’s extended elbow. “Do you want me to…”

Jack rolled his eyes and seized Ianto’s hand. “We’re supposed to look like we’re dating, right? Let’s go.”

Ianto concentrated very hard on crossing the street, and did not let himself think about Jack’s fingers curling around his own. He spread the fingers of his opposite hand wide, as if by ventilating one palm he could convince the other not to sweat.

It _was_ distracting, though. Even during their romantic involvement, Jack had never just held Ianto’s hand like this, and it made his chest ache. It was such a simple, silly thing to miss.

_You can hold your signum_ _’s hand all you want once you find them_ , Ianto reprimanded himself. _Get in there_.

As they approached the building, Ianto squinted through the row of glass doors to see the security stations just inside. “This way.” He pulled Jack past the revolving door to a smaller entrance at the far right.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“Todd’s working this end. He’ll be sympathetic.”

“Who the hell is Todd?”

“Dating for two minutes, and already you’re jealous?” Ianto attempted to inject levity into his voice, but to his own ears he just sounded nervous.

Todd recognized Ianto as soon as he walked in. “Good morning, Mr. Jones! It’s not your regular appointment day, is it?”

“Ah, no, I’m here for something else today.” Ianto handed over his card to be scanned, then tugged Jack’s hand to bring him closer. “We were hoping for a compatibility session, actually, but I don’t have an appointment. Would you mind checking to see if there’s an opening?”

Todd positively beamed at them. “I’m sure they’ll make time for you!” He picked up a handset and spoke a few sentences, then turned back to Ianto. “They said they can get you in right away. Ms. Braithwaite is coming down personally.” He eyed Jack with approval, then smiled at Ianto again. “I hope congratulations are in order. So, how did you two meet?”

“Work,” Ianto said, and quickly went on, “How are the wedding plans coming along?”

Todd’s cheeks turned rosy, and he grinned like a schoolboy. “Oh, you know how it is. Bryn’s mum is making a fuss about every little thing. She wants it to be the next royal wedding. He finally told her if she didn’t stop nitpicking, we were just going to elope and not have a reception at all.”

“Well, with or without a reception, I’m sure you’ll be just as happy.” Ianto gave a warm smile. “Oh! I see Ms. Braithwaite coming. Thanks, Todd. And good luck with everything.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones. You, as well!”

As they left the security point and headed into the atrium, Jack gave Ianto a sidelong stare. “What was all that about?”

“Todd,” Ianto answered primly, “got engaged to his signum last month, and thinks everyone in the world deserves to be as happy as he and Bryn are. Consequently, he has a soft spot for male couples, and his greatest joy in life is talking about his upcoming wedding.” Ianto raised an eyebrow at Jack. “You’ll notice we got in without you ever showing your ID.”

Jack gazed at him in new appreciation. “I didn’t know you were so calculating.”

Ianto shrugged. “One thing I learned from Yvonne Hartman: Sometimes it pays to be a people person.” He nodded toward the approaching woman. “Here’s one of our mysterious founders. Look alive.”

“Mr. Jones!” Evelyn Braithwaite greeted him with her usual ebullience. “I must say, this is a surprise.” She swept Jack with an appraising glance. “A pleasant one, of course. I hear you two are interested in a compatibility counseling session?”

Ianto nodded, but before he could answer, Jack’s arm slipped around his waist. The sensation swept the words from Ianto’s throat. “He says we need one,” Jack jumped in, grinning. “I don’t think we do, but then, I’m a bit old-fashioned.”

“I can see that.” Ms. Braithwaite eyed Jack’s coat. “But it’s a complimentary service for Mr. Jones, so we’d be happy to assist you, Mr.…?” She extended her hand, shaking back the heavy cuff bracelet she always wore.

“Harkness. Jack Harkness.” Jack released Ianto’s waist to shake her hand, then laced his fingers again with Ianto’s. “And I don’t mind, really. Anything he wants.” He lifted their entwined hands and kissed the back of Ianto’s, his gaze beaming with affection.

Ianto felt the heat creeping up his neck. _Focus. It_ _’s just an act. We’re here to do a job_. “I know this is all a bit sudden, but Dr. Peters said there still wasn’t any progress on finding my signum, and meanwhile Jack and I… well.” He didn’t have to feign the shy smile; Jack’s thumb was stroking the back of his hand. “I suppose you must see this sort of thing all the time.”

“Not exactly this.” Her five-star smile didn’t falter for a moment. “But we’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Follow me, please. I’ll take you to the consult room.”

They trailed her across the floor, past the lobby pools with their water jets. Jack paused to stare up at the water tower. “That’s some fountain,” he said, a convincing level of awe in his voice. The trickling of water over the musical tiles filled the air.

Evelyn Braithwaite smiled. “Yes, we’re rather proud of it. Second-tallest in Wales.”

Ianto quickly scanned the pool area, searching for some indication that the helix of metal boxes was more than purely decorative. Just as Ms. Braithwaite was moving off again, he spotted it: A narrow door, set into the lowest box of the sculpture. The seam was nearly obscured by the overlapping tiles, but there was a gap at the base, just above the water level, where a rubber seal was clearly visible. He caught Jack’s eye and tipped his head toward it. Jack nodded minutely, but his jaw tightened, and Ianto knew why: The door’s location meant that the only access to SoulMatch’s server hardware was visible not only to security, but to the entire building. There was no chance of Toshiko slipping in unnoticed to copy the files directly, which meant accessing them through a terminal somewhere in the building. That came with its own set of security challenges, and a much greater risk of discovery.

As they followed their guide to another part of the office tower, Jack reached up to scratch his ear and unmuted his earpiece. A moment later, Ianto did the same. The murmur of blended conversation hummed against his jaw, and occasionally he could pick out one of his teammates’ distinct voices as they answered questions in their intake interviews.

“Here we are.” Ms. Braithwaite swung open the door to a small office, which was lined in comfortable leather furniture. “Have a seat, and Dr. Patel will be with you in a moment. Oh, Mr. Jones,” she caught Ianto’s arm, “might I have a quick word with you? It won’t take a moment,” she told Jack. “Just some membership details.”

Ianto hesitated for a second, but the goal all along had been to distract the staff while Jack investigated, so he hung back outside the door. “Of course. What is it?”

Ms. Braithwaite waited until the office door closed completely before leading him a few steps away. “The truth is, Mr. Jones,” she said quietly, “we were going to call you this afternoon.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Well, I hate to do anything to derail this new romance of yours—and I want to emphasize that we’re willing to do whatever you want, and we can certainly go ahead with the compatibility consultation if you like. I don’t want you to feel pressured to make a decision today.”

Her assurances only contributed to the tightness in Ianto’s throat. “What are you saying?”

“Dr. Peters contacted me first thing this morning with the news.” She laid a hand on Ianto’s arm, as though bracing him for a shock. “You see, we’ve found your signum.”


	28. Chapter 28

Ianto pushed open the office door to find Jack seated on one of the leather sofas. “Jack, I… I need to take care of some paperwork with Dr. Peters.”

The look on Jack’s face told Ianto he had heard everything through his earpiece. There was concern in his expression, but also something harder. “Don’t be too long. I might get bored without you.”

“I’m sure you’re capable of entertaining yourself.” Ianto cast a look around the office, spotting a computer terminal in one corner. “You could read a magazine, or something.”

Jack followed his gaze and gave an almost imperceptible nod, then fixed Ianto with an intense look. “I’ll see you soon.”

Ianto released a sigh as he let the door swing closed and followed Evelyn Braithwaite to the elevators. He knew Jack was worried about his loyalties dividing if it came down to the success of the operation or the name of his signum, but there was really no cause for his concern. Hadn’t he proved himself by now?

Well… No, he really hadn’t. He’d betrayed Jack’s trust with Lisa, handed him over to the Saviour in the Ferret, and rebelled against him yet again by opening the rift and releasing Abaddon. No wonder Jack had his doubts.

But now Ianto was only a few floors away from someone who held the identity of his signum, and what he’d told Jack before was true: Once he had that name, he didn’t care what became of SoulMatch. His signum was the key to everything—ending his loneliness, grounding his life, eliminating this ongoing awkwardness with Jack. As soon as Dr. Peters connected him with his soulmate, Ianto would do whatever was necessary to stop the company’s alien machinations.

They reached the familiar laboratory where Ianto had his semiweekly sessions, and Ms. Braithwaite waved him in. “Dr. Peters will see you as soon as he’s finished with a new client who just came in. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my office.” She turned her gleaming smile on Ianto. “I know how long you’ve waited for this, Mr. Jones, and I want to thank you personally for entrusting SoulMatch with your future.”

“Of course.” He returned a tight smile, then wandered over to his usual cubicle to wait. The room was silent, save for a faint burr of conversation from another cubicle down the row.

Ianto frowned. It shouldn’t be this silent, not with his earpiece in. He muted and reactivated the comm unit, but there was only a muffled rustling in his ear. Perhaps it was malfunctioning, as Jack’s had earlier. He flicked the side of his jaw with a fingertip, but it had no effect.

After a few minutes, Dr. Peters appeared at the door to the cubicle. “Ah, Mr. Jones! I’m so happy to see you. Sorry to keep you waiting.” He checked the diver’s watch on his wrist and then offered his hand, which Ianto shook politely. “Follow me to my office, would you?” He led the way to the room where Ianto had first met him. “I have some good news for you.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ianto’s pulse was racing. “Did you really find my signum?”

“We really did.” Dr. Peters smiled and waved Ianto to a chair. “It took us a while to sort it all out, but we have a positive identity. And a location. You’ll be happy to know your signum is right here in Cardiff.”

“That’s fortunate.” Ianto swallowed nervously. “Can I know who it is?”

The doctor chuckled and glanced at his watch again. “All in good time. First, there are one or two small details we need to address.”

Ianto groaned inwardly. “Dr. Peters, I realize there are going to be things to settle, but I have been waiting _years_ for this. Please don’t keep me in suspense any longer. Give me a name, and then I’ll sign whatever papers you want or pay the extra fees or whatever it is.”

“My, you are keen.” Dr. Peters chuckled again. “Very well. Just one thing…” He reached into the breast pocket of his lab coat.

For an instant the rustling in Ianto’s ear intensified, and then a piercing squeal stabbed through his skull. Ianto cried out and clawed at his ear until he dislodged the earpiece. He sat stunned for a moment, his ear ringing and eyes watering from the shock.

“I thought so.” Dr. Peters sat back in his seat and tutted. “A shame, Mr. Jones. You had so much potential. Ah, well.” He dropped two bean-shaped transmitters on his desk. “It was foolish of your teammates to try to infiltrate with false birthmarks. We scan everyone at the door, you know. Your friends sent up instant red flags in the system.”

Ianto tried to focus on him through the fog in his head. He couldn’t hear on one side, and there was a pulsing pain in his ear. “What have you done with them?”

“Oh, they’re alive, for now. Just so you know, we fully intend to use them as leverage.” He glanced at his watch, then powered on his computer monitor.

“Where are they? I want to see them.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands, Mr. Jones.” He pointed toward a security camera in the corner. “If you make trouble, it might not go so well for your friends. They’re just in the lab next door, if it makes you feel any better.” He typed briefly on the keyboard, then turned back to Ianto. “We’ve no interest in killing any of you, actually. All we want is to get on with our work. If you play nice, all four of you can walk out of here, alive and well.”

_Four_. Ianto blinked and stared down at the desk. There were only two earpieces. He had to assume Jack’s cover had been blown as well, since he’d entered with Ianto, but that meant there was still a chance that one of the team was still at liberty. But which one?

Ianto sat back in his chair. Whoever hadn’t been caught could have heard the commotion on the transmitters. He had to play for time. “Define ‘play nice.’”

Dr. Peters shrugged. “As I said, we simply want to do our work. Make people happy. Help them find love. Why do you want to stand in the way of that?”

Ianto shifted his foot until it covered the earpiece that had fallen out of his ear. “Because it sounds awfully altruistic. Call me suspicious, but I think there’s more going on here than you’re advertising.” He turned his head to glance at the open door, which bore the number 714 on a plastic tag above Dr. Peters’ name.

The doctor misconstrued his glance. “Don’t embarrass yourself by attempting to escape, Mr. Jones,” he sighed. “Security is on high alert and is guarding every exit. Your friends have been captured. There’s no one coming to rescue you.”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of escape,” Ianto assured him. Beneath the desk, he began tapping his foot on the earpiece. Seven taps. “I was just listening to the sound of your musical fountain.” One tap. “It _is_ just a fountain, isn’t it?” Three taps.

Dr. Peters gave him a wary look. “What else would it be?”

Ianto repeated the tapping sequence. “Oh, I don’t know. I had this wild notion it could be a cooling system for some kind of massive computer.”

The doctor’s smile froze for an instant, and it was as good as a confession. “Oh, I think you’ve let your fancies run away with you, Mr. Jones.”

“Have I? Ah, well.” Ianto tapped his foot again. “Are you going to tell me what you’re really doing here?”

Dr. Peters chuckled. “If you don’t already know, I don’t see any reason to enlighten you.”

“It might make me more cooperative. You say you want me to play nice, but I can’t very well agree to something without knowing the details. If you’re really doing no harm, I won’t have any reason to interfere.”

Dr. Peters appeared to consider this. “We really aren’t hurting anyone,” he said at last. “We’re doing something beneficial, actually. Think of it as long-term health care for the human race. Sort of an insurance company.”

“Health care?” Ianto frowned. Seven taps. “That sounds suspicious. I’ve dealt with the NHS, and _nobody_ gets involved in health care administration out of the goodness of their heart.” Before Dr. Peters could answer that, an ear-splitting bell sounded. Ianto flinched and covered his ears, one of which was still pulsing with pain from the earlier squeal. “Sounds like a fire alarm,” Ianto called over the din. “Shouldn’t we evacuate?”

“We’ll do no such thing,” Dr. Peters said. He withdrew a pistol from a desk drawer and leveled it at Ianto. “Stay just where you are, Mr. Jones.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a licensed medical tool,” Ianto called back.

Dr. Peters shrugged. “Believe me, I’m better with a syringe. But this will do the job in a pinch.” An agonizing few minutes later, the bell died, and Ianto released his ears with a sigh of relief. “There. It seems security has dealt with whatever set that off.”

“Not really,” came a new voice. Ianto whirled to see Owen framed in the doorway, his own semiautomatic aimed at Dr. Peters. “But it did effectively clear the civilians and regular employees out of your building.”

Dr. Peters’ mouth opened and closed soundlessly. “Mr. Harper?” he sputtered at last.

“It’s _Doctor_ Harper, thank you. And while I am skilled with a syringe, I’m also very well trained with this—” He waggled the pistol suggestively. “—so if you don’t want your brains splattered all over that nice office wallpaper, I suggest you put down your gun.”

Dr. Peters complied, and Ianto immediately bolted to his feet and collected the firearm, along with the earpieces. “Tosh and Gwen,” he said. “They were captured…”

“They’re fine. I got them free first, thanks to your message.” Owen scowled at Ianto. “Though it took me a while to figure out it wasn’t Morse code.”

“I figured you wouldn’t know Morse code. I just assumed you’d realize it was the room number where they were being held.”

“I did, eventually. Tosh is tearing apart the lab now. Looks like they were building more of those drones. Gwen went after Jack.”

“I hope he’s still connected.” Ianto fitted his earpiece back in. “Jack? Can you hear me?”

There was a rustle of sound, and then Jack’s voice crackled through, faintly. “Yeah, barely. I think the alarm overwhelmed the sound sensors.”

“Are you all right? Do you need us to come get you?”

“I’m fine. Gwen found me. We had to take out half of the security force, but we’re at liberty for the moment.” There was a pause. “Your buddy Todd’s okay. I told him to run for his life, and he did.”

Ianto smiled at Jack’s unexpected kindness. “I guess he had a lot to live for. Where are you now?”

“Heading back to the atrium. You all okay? Gwen filled me in.”

“We’re holding Dr. Peters. Owen says Tosh is clearing the lab. Where should we meet you?”

There was a pause before Jack answered. “Don’t,” he said in a low voice. “The boss just showed up, and she’s got the rest of her goons with her. It’s about to get real loud in here.”

“We’ll come help—”

“No, they’ve got control of the elevators and stairs. Stay where you are in case this goes south. If you don’t hear from me in ten minutes, find another way out of the building.” There was a faint click as Jack muted his earpiece.

Ianto and Owen exchanged glances. “Figures they’d have a backup plan,” Owen muttered. “Nothing is ever simple, is it?” He kept the pistol aimed at Peters while he fished his mobile out with the other and thumbed a contact. “Tosh? You almost done?”

“Just packing up now,” came her voice, tinny through the small speaker. “You’re still next door?”

“Yeah. Hurry. Jack and Gwen may be in trouble.” To confirm his statement, a roar of gunfire sounded through the open door.

Dr. Peters was staring at Owen, a furrow in his brow. “I don’t understand,” he blurted when Owen had disconnected the call. “We flagged the fake birthmarks. But I just saw you as a new client. How did you get through security without tripping any flags?”

“Mine’s not a fake. Not everyone who’s born with a spot on their skin buys into your bullshit.”

“But your signum…”

“Is dead.” Owen leveled the pistol at Peters’ face. “So you see, taking SoulMatch down is just fine with me. I don’t have anything to lose.”

Something flickered in Dr. Peters’ eyes. “Unlike Mr. Jones here,” he said slowly. His eyes flashed to the computer screen and back.

Ianto stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that I have something you want, and—”

“Shut up,” Owen growled. He stepped aside as Toshiko entered the room, breathless and hauling a huge nylon equipment bag.

“Good to see you, Tosh.” Ianto handed her one of the earpieces. “What’s in the bag?”

“Either a bunch of homemade flash-bangs, or one really messy bomb, depending on how many we set off at once. I took all the detonators from the drones and rigged them to containers of explosive gas and assorted incendiaries.”

“Why is there explosive gas in a medical lab?”

“A drone assembly plant, you mean. They had an oxy-acetylene welding torch and a staff room full of beverage bottles. I improvised.” She shrugged. “It’s not perfect, but it should be enough to blow our way out of here if we need to.” She listened to the report of gunshots from the atrium. “From the sound of things, I’d say that’s very likely.”

Owen jerked his head toward the door. “Jack and Gwen are having a showdown in the lobby. Let’s go.”

Ianto hesitated. He wanted to help Jack, and yet… “Jack told us to stay here.”

“Jack didn’t know Tosh had a bag full of bombs. We can help them.”

For an instant Ianto flashed back to the last time he had argued with Owen over the enforcement of Jack’s orders, when he had gotten severely bruised ribs in the exchange. This time, Owen was the one holding the pistol. “I don’t think we should go down until he calls for us.”

“I agree,” Dr. Peters interjected. “Let’s talk about your signum instead, Mr. Jones.”

Ianto froze. “What?”

Owen raised his free hand to reinforce the grip on his pistol. “Ianto, don’t listen to him. We’re going downstairs to get Jack and Gwen, and we’re taking the good doctor with us.”

“And if you do, Mr. Jones will never know who his soulmate is.” Dr. Peters arched his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t condemn your friend to that fate, would you, Dr. Harper?”

“You assume an awful lot,” Owen returned. “On your feet.”

Ianto glanced between the two doctors. He desperately wanted the name of his signum, but Jack and Gwen were in danger…

Another volley of gunfire sounded through the door. Someone cried out in agony. Was that Jack’s voice?

“Let’s go,” Ianto said. He drew his own sidearm and used it to motion Dr. Peters toward the door. “Move.”

Dr. Peters glanced at his diving watch and smiled. “Very well. Let’s go.”


	29. Chapter 29

Despite the racket Jack and Gwen’s guns were making in the atrium, the team met with few obstacles as they escorted Dr. Peters down the stairs at gunpoint. When they reached the ground floor, they found a couple of unconscious security guards and several dropped stun guns scattered about the elevator bay. Apparently most of the security force had fled under Torchwood’s fire.

“Looks like you just can’t find good help these days,” Owen observed. “I’m guessing they weren’t really part of your organization?”

Dr. Peters shrugged and nudged a body with his toe. “They were merely paid employees, like the majority of our local staff. Though I would have thought they’d show more loyalty, after all the benefits we provided them. Our terms of employment were quite generous.”

“Apparently not worth dying for.” Owen shoved Dr. Peters’ shoulder with the pistol. “Keep moving.”

As they emerged into the lobby area, two more security men stumbled into them, heading for the emergency exit in the stairwell. One was sobbing, and the other’s face was contorted in terror. “Run,” he panted as he tumbled to a halt beside Ianto. “They have real guns, they’re—” The man caught sight of Owen’s pistol and looked as though he might be ill.

Ianto jerked his head toward the stairs. “Go on. We’ll handle it.”

The man didn’t spare an instant to question the order, but turned and bolted after his companion. Toshiko watched them go. “We should have Retconned them before they left. It’ll be hard to track everyone down later.”

“I’m not sure I could have convinced them to swallow anything just now. Besides, we don’t have the time. We need to find Jack and Gwen.”

A pair of gunshots echoed through the space. “That shouldn’t be hard,” Toshiko said, and then frowned. “Wait—if the security guards weren’t armed, who’s doing all the shooting?”

That question was answered a moment later, as they reached the atrium and the building’s entrance came into view. Evelyn Braithwaite was standing boldly in the open by one of the check-in desks, swapping the magazine in a semiautomatic pistol. As they watched, she thumbed the slide release and sent a shot toward the base of the water tower.

“Ah, Dr. Peters,” Ms. Braithwaite called across the open space. “You’ve been captured, I see. Careless of you.”

“A temporary situation, I assure you,” the doctor called back.

Owen ground the barrel of his pistol into the man’s shoulder. “Where are our friends?” he shouted.

“Owen? Is that you?” Gwen’s voice wavered with relief, and they followed the sound to the far side of the water tower. Gwen was low to the ground, just peering over the concrete edging of the pool.

“Look out!” Toshiko shoved Owen and Ianto to one side, and they stumbled behind a support pillar just as Evelyn Braithwaite fired a few rounds at them. The first bullet chipped a corner off an information plinth near where they had been standing; the rest cracked into the far wall. Toshiko dove the other direction, and there was a splash as she landed in the pool surrounding the base of the water tower.

Dr. Peters took advantage of the confusion to slam into Owen’s body, knocking him even further off balance. Before he could recover, Peters had broken free and was running toward Ms. Braithwaite, who had wisely moved behind one of the Plexiglas screens at the security stations. Owen swore and sent a shot after him, but it went wide and cracked a panel in the revolving door. “You see?” Ianto heard Dr. Peters say. “Temporary, as I said.”

“Is everybody all right?” Ianto called, squeezing behind the column to make himself a smaller target. There were affirmatives from Owen and Toshiko, who flailed upright in the water only to flatten herself low behind the concrete retention wall once she had her bearings. The equipment bag floated behind her. “Gwen, where’s Jack?”

“Jack is dead,” she called back.

The words struck Ianto like a physical blow. Jack… Jack _couldn_ _’t_ be dead. Not his captain, his best friend, the man he… _I never told him_ , Ianto thought incongruously. _All this time, and he never knew how I felt about him_ _…_

Gradually he registered that Gwen was still speaking, and that she didn’t sound terribly concerned. The shock eased as his intellect caught up to his emotions. _Right. Jack is immortal. He_ _’ll come back. He’ll be fine._ He repeated that thought to himself like a mantra.

The panic, however brief, had distracted him from the rest of what Gwen was saying. When he could focus again, he just caught the end of a sentence: “…signal is tied into the computer system. He said we need to shut it down by whatever means necessary.”

There was a laugh from the other end of the lobby. “My, that’s ambitious of you,” Ms. Braithwaite chuckled. “You know we’ve taken precautions against you.”

“You don’t know what we’re capable of,” Owen called back. He eased his head around the pillar, angling for a shot. Ianto crouched low and inched around the other side to get a better view.

“Oh, I do. You see, I know all about Torchwood, and as soon as your friends came through the door, we knew you would try to interfere. That’s why I started the… well, let’s call it a software update.”

Toshiko was still floundering near the base of the water tower, halfway in its shadow. “What software?” she called.

“Our control system, of course.”

Owen wasn’t impressed. “I assume you’re going to tell us what this software update does.”

“If you wish. But first, you have to understand how the entire system works.” Ms. Braithwaite turned to the computer terminal at the guard station and tapped something on the keyboard.

Owen nudged Ianto’s shoulder and indicated the next pillar, nearer the guard station, then waved to Toshiko and pointed to where they were currently crouched. Ianto and Toshiko nodded, and on Owen’s signal, they darted around opposite sides of the column and piled into the base of the next one. With a splash, Toshiko vaulted the edge of the pool and dove into the more substantial cover of the support pillar.

“Oh, yes, don’t be shy,” Ms. Braithwaite sneered. “Come see for yourselves what we’ve accomplished.”

“Let’s save time,” Toshiko called. “Thirty years ago, you staged an artificial meteor shower in order to seed the planet with organic nanotechnology that caused children to be born with simulated birthmarks that allowed you to pair them up with a partner of your choice.”

“Ah, you did do your homework.” Dr. Peters didn’t look particularly pleased. He glanced at his screen, then back at Toshiko. “But do you know why?”

“I assume you’ll tell us that, too,” Owen muttered.

“Profit,” Dr. Peters smiled, a shark’s grin. “Simply that.”

“So you went to all that trouble just to make money running the registry?” Toshiko’s voice was incredulous. “That can’t be the only reason.”

“Oh, not this,” Dr. Peters laughed, waving his hand to encompass the whole of SoulMatch headquarters. “This was just a necessary cover to get it all started. I’m talking about _real_ profit, in the coming millennia. A steady stream of revenue until the end of time.”

“How do you figure that?” Owen called, easing around the corner for another look. Across the fountain, Ianto saw Gwen helping Jack into a sitting position. She caught his eye, pointed to Jack and gave a thumbs-up, but then held up her pistol and shook her head.

Ianto instinctively patted his pockets, though he couldn’t possibly reach her to deliver more ammunition even if he’d had it. He was carrying two extra magazines for his Walther, but he’d seen Gwen pick up a SIG-Sauer in the armory that morning. Apparently the earlier firefight had depleted her reserves. He had no way of knowing if Jack still had ammunition for his revolver, but he couldn’t plan on it.

Dr. Peters was carrying on with his lecture. “Do you know what one of the biggest drains on the average human economy is?”

Toshiko hummed thoughtfully. “Illegal internet downloads?”

“ _Health care_. Pharmaceutical companies, insurance companies, doctor education, specialized equipment, liability protection… For as long as humans exist, they will pay a premium to be healthy. And that’s where we come in.”

“A glorified dating agency?” Owen snorted. “I’m all for sex, but I don’t think there’s that strong a link between shagging and life expectancy.”

Dr. Peters hissed in irritation. “Nanobiotechnology. Once our organic nanites are seeded throughout the human race, we can use them to attack viruses, control pandemics, even clear clogged arteries. We’ll have the ultimate monopoly. Only _we_ can guarantee the survival of the human race, and the humans will pay handsomely.”

“Your nanites can do all that?”

“Of course. Right now they just cluster beneath the skin to look like birthmarks, but that’s because they’re dormant. Their control enzymes haven’t properly bonded to the DNA yet.”

Toshiko peered around her column to exchange a look with Owen. “How does a nanite bond to DNA?”

“Just the control enzymes,” Dr. Peters explained patiently. “In order to be permanently bonded to a subject, the nanites have to be present in both parents. Each set of nanites releases the enzymes that alter the host’s chromosomes, so when a new child is created, their DNA is primed to take orders from our nanites.”

Realization dawned on Owen’s face. “So that’s why you had to play matchmaker. You couldn’t have just _anyone_ having babies, or you might have risked some unaltered bloodlines surviving. You had to ensure that the birthmark generation only interbred with birthmark partners. No one over thirty.”

“Exactly! And what better way to guarantee our breeding program than by creating a perfect matchmaking profile? Oh, you _humans_!” Ms Braithwaite threw back her head and laughed. “You’re so easily controlled. Offer you a fairy-tale ending, offer you a magical solution that saves you the trouble of doing something yourself, and you’re no better than the sheep you farm in this rustic little country. No wonder so many species use your planet as a breeding ground.”

“Humans may be sheep, but you’ve just pissed off the sheepdog.” Jack had made it to his feet while she’d been talking, and now he staggered into her line of sight from behind the water tower. Relief flooded Ianto at seeing him alive and active again.

“Oh, were you still alive? I thought I’d shot you.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “We really ought to get that resilience into our special breeding program. I could make it worth your while.”

Jack didn’t even acknowledge her offer with a retort. “Seeding a Level Five planet is prohibited by universal ratification of the Shadow Proclamation—”

Ms. Braithwaite waved her hand, the silver cuff bracelet glinting. “I know, I know. Don’t bore me with the legal text. By the time anyone reports us to the Shadow Proclamation, our technology will be inextricably embedded in the entire human bloodline, and we’ll be long gone. And even if they catch us, what—we’ll have to pay a fine? Easily afforded, considering the profits we can make over the next hundred million years or so.” She grinned fiercely. “You humans do tramp simply _everywhere_ in the galaxy, you know. There’s no limit to what we can charge to keep you alive.”

“So it’s a protection racket for the entire species?” Jack’s voice was rough with anger. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Oh, I think we already have. But I have a proposition for you—” She glanced around, then heaved an exasperated sigh. “Look, would all of you come out where we can see each other? All this hiding behind furniture isn’t making for good conversation. I always prefer a face-to-face sales pitch. Here, I’ll even put down my weapon.” The pistol clattered to the counter.

The stalemate behind the pillars certainly hadn’t gotten them any closer to destroying the computer system, and Ms. Braithwaite couldn’t get off a quick shot as long as she stayed behind the bulletproof security barrier. Warily, Owen and Ianto crept out and came forward, guns in hand. They heard the slap of wet fabric as Toshiko moved behind them. Across the room, Jack and Gwen moved nearer, though they stayed at a wide angle to make any potential tactical move difficult for their enemies.

“That’s better.” Ms. Braithwaite flashed her best five-star-seller smile. “Now, as I was saying… Already, we have assimilated nearly two-thirds of the population of your planet—enough to ensure that our technology will be inherited by the majority of the human race.” She adjusted the computer monitor beside her. At the new angle, Ianto could see a horizontal bar on the screen that was filling with color.

Ianto wasn’t the only one who saw the screen. “Wait,” Toshiko said suddenly. “You mentioned a software update. What’s that about?”

Dr. Peters’ eyes flicked to the computer screen, and he gave a shrug. “Oh, just standard maintenance. Nothing to bother about.”

“No… No, you’re stalling! You’ve been keeping us talking while—”

“And now it’s officially too late to stop it,” Ms. Braithwaite said brightly. She spun the monitor around toward them just as a progress bar flicked from 99% to 100%.

Dr. Peters threw back his head and laughed. “See? Humans are so predictable. Dangle some juicy bit of gossip they don’t know, and they’ll always take it. Even the famous Torchwood is no better than the rest.”

“What was in that update?” Toshiko demanded. “What did it do to them?”

“It did nothing _to_ them.” Dr. Peters smiled. “It did, however, activate the kill switch in our nanites. Now, if we choose to do so, we can wipe out every assimilated human on the planet with a single click of a button. Which means you had better put your weapons down right now, or around four billion of your closest friends will die.”


	30. Chapter 30

“As I see it,” Ms. Braithwaite addressed the group, now clustered in one place and stripped of their weapons, “you have two options. You can fight us, in which case all I have to do is hit the panic button on this computer, the transmitter sends a kill signal, and approximately four billion people will die within the next hour as the nanites cluster in their cerebral arteries. Or you can surrender quietly and let us get on with our work, and those four billion people will go on living their happy, fulfilling lives, perfectly matched with their one true love. Which will it be?”

Toshiko coughed under her breath. The sound barely registered in Ianto’s earpiece, and he ignored it. She coughed again.

Jack bared his teeth, glanced at the revolver had been taken from him, then at the rest of his team. “Owen? Is she bluffing?”

“I don’t know, Jack. I didn’t know these things existed before yesterday. I have no idea what their lethal capabilities might be.”

This time Toshiko cleared her throat more loudly. When Ianto angled his head to look at her, she caught his eye and stared hard at the pile of weapons and electronics that Dr. Peters had taken when he’d frisked them. Everything lay in a jumble on the security station counter beside the computer terminal—their pistols, PDAs, mobile phones, a knife Owen had been carrying, a few things of Toshiko’s that he couldn’t immediately identify. His eyes fell on an object that had tumbled out of the pile—a small plastic box with a button on one side.

“Four billion people?” Gwen looked pleadingly at Jack. “We can’t risk all those lives.”

“If we don’t, we’re condemning quadrillions of people to extortion for the rest of time,” Jack shot back.

Toshiko gave a huge sniff and raised a dripping sleeve to her nose. Behind the cover of her hand, she murmured, “Detonator.” The whisper hummed almost inaudibly against Ianto’s jawbone.

Ianto flicked an eyebrow in a visual question, and she turned her head to sneeze—in the direction of the water tower. He scanned the pool, and only just spotted the handle of a nylon bag floating near the support struts. The bulk of the black form was wedged beneath the tower.

“But four _billion_ people, Jack!” Gwen bit her lip. “It’s not so bad for them to live, is it? People finding their soulmates… at least they’ll be happy?”

“They’ll be slaves, Gwen. Forever. The entire human race, at the mercy of one insurance company.”

“And _killing_ everyone is better?”

Ms. Braithwaite made a show of looking at her watch. “Oh, do take as long as you need to decide. I haven’t anything in my diary until cocktails at six.”

“Hold on,” Ianto cut in. “There are a few things I don’t understand, and I’m not making _any_ decisions until I have a complete picture of the situation. Let’s say for a moment that we were to agree to your terms—you say everyone will live happily with their soulmates, but how can you guarantee that?”

She stared at him. “It’s what we do. Didn’t you see the sign over the door?”

“No, I know that’s what you advertise, but how does it work? How do you match up the couples? How do the nanites predict who is going to fall in love?”

Ms. Braithwaite waved the question over to Dr. Peters, who gestured expansively. “Simple brain scans and probability algorithms, Mr. Jones. It’s easy to calculate a degree of compatibility for most of the population, and human psychology does the rest. Of course, since we’re operating from the future, we _could_ simply trace the genetic lines to their roots and ensured those breeding pairs are given corresponding symbols, but that’s hardly necessary. Humans are predictable, suggestible, and easily labeled. Although there are, naturally, some exceptions.”

“Like this?” Ianto held out his wrist. “If your goal was to breed more humans with nanites, why isolate some people with unusual marks? Why give me this kind of mark, when all it does is keep me out of the—the breeding pool?”

“Ah, so that’s what you’re really curious about.” Dr. Peters chuckled. “I told you the truth, Mr. Jones. Your mark really is special.”

“Tell me _why_. Why did it change? Why did you turn it into this symbol?”

“Turn…?” He smiled. “I didn’t do that, Mr. Jones. You did.”

Ianto curled his hands into fists at his side so that no one would see them shaking. “What do you mean, _I_ did?”

“I mean that we don’t _select_ the humans; our system merely labels them with appropriate symbols. Naturally, we have to take precautions, working so far in the past. We can’t upset the timeline too much. That’s why our tracking system has built-in warnings: The more developed the marker sign, the more important that person is to history. Highly complex marks, like yours, designate those with some pivotal role to play in future events. Of course, the future is constantly in flux, so our system can’t always work out in advance which path an individual is going to take. The changing of your mark reflected the developments in your own life that rendered you more and more vital to the timeline.”

Ianto looked down at his arm. “So you’re saying… I chose this?”

Dr. Peters shrugged. “As much as anyone chooses his own destiny. We didn’t author your fate; we just kept you under observation.”

“Why? If I’m so… so pivotal in the timeline, what does it matter if you watch me or not? Won’t everything just happen the way the future—history— _whatever—_ says it’s supposed to?”

Dr. Peters sighed, his patience wearing. “Your mark simply means you’re _important_ —not that your place in history is necessarily fixed. There’s no way of knowing _why_ you’re significant to the timeline, but our policy is to keep important people on our side, instead of working against us. That’s why we were so anxious to have you in our study.”

“So you could drug me and manipulate me.” Ianto felt he would be sick. “So this mark isn’t for a romantic match at all? It’s just a bar code so you can scan me off the assimilation list?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Jones, we didn’t deceive you. Well,” he acknowledged with a nod, “perhaps a little. But not about your signum. You were run through the same compatibility algorithm as everyone else, and I assure you, you do have a perfect match in the system. It took us a while to locate, due to some… technical issues, but we really did track down your signum. In fact, that’s why your…” Dr. Peters broke off, then smiled. “No. No, I don’t think I’ll tell you about that just yet.” He reached into the pocket of his lab coat and held up a gleaming silver data key. “I had this ready when we went to my office, on the off chance you _weren_ _’t_ in league with the others, but we saw how that turned out. Would you like to know who your soulmate is, Mr. Jones?”

Ianto staggered a step forward before he felt Owen’s hand on his arm. “Mate, it’s a trap.”

“I know that,” Ianto snapped, shaking off his grip. “But…” The silver key beckoned, calling to him like a siren. He took another step.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Mr. Jones.” Dr. Peters waggled the key in his hand so it caught the light. “You and your friends let us continue our work, and I’ll provide you with the name and location of your signum, no strings attached. You can still have your happily-ever-after.”

Jack snorted. “Like you actually intend to let us walk away from this.”

Dr. Peters shrugged. “We could kill you—and we won’t hesitate to, if you refuse to cooperate—but it’s much easier for us to maintain history if we don’t punch holes in the timeline. If we let you live, it saves us the cleanup work. It’s quite a good deal, really.” He smiled at Owen and Toshiko. “I’ll even toss in a free evaluation for the two of you, if you like.”

“Forget it,” snapped Toshiko. “I don’t need some alien technology to tell me whom I can or can’t love. I can make my own choices.”

“My dear, it isn’t limiting you,” Dr. Peters sighed. “It’s merely making your choices easier. And it really works—ask any of our satisfied customers.”

“Oh, I know it works,” Owen cut in, his face hard. “My signum was a perfect match. Complete waste of your energy, though, because she’s _dead_. No contribution to posterity.”

Dr. Peters shrugged. “Of course not all couples produce children, but the shotgun approach was easier than targeting individual breeding pairs. There was bound to be some waste in the process.”

Owen lunged forward, and this time it was Ianto who caught him. “Owen, wait!”

The crack of a gunshot at close range lanced through Ianto’s ears, setting off a fresh pulse of pain in his eardrums. Off to the side, Jack reeled back with a groan. Ianto whirled to see Evelyn Braithwaite standing beside Dr. Peters with a smoking pistol in her hand.

Gwen caught Jack’s shoulders and steadied him, and Owen peeled away from Ianto to go to him. Ms. Braithwaite lowered the pistol. “What a shame,” she sighed. “Missed.” She cocked her head to one side. “Though it will be interesting to see if he recovers again.” Her eyes flicked to Owen, who was applying pressure to the bullet wound in Jack’s shoulder. “If you’d like to test your own bullet resistance, feel free to try that again, Mr…. Harper, was it?”

“ _Doctor_ Harper,” Dr. Peters corrected. “He was very insistent. And look what a good job he’s doing patching up his friend. Perhaps he was even telling the truth.”

Their flippant attitudes fanned Ianto’s anger, and he took a step forward.

“Ah-ah,” Dr. Peters warned, raising the data key. “Now, don’t be impolite, Mr. Jones. I assume you analyzed the data key you stole and discovered the self-destruct system?”

Ianto stayed where he was, a little in front of the others. “Yes,” he said warily.

“Then I shouldn’t have to explain to you what happens if this key crosses that security line.” He pointed to a silver strip set in the floor a few yards inside the main entrance, scarcely a dozen paces away. “From this distance, I don’t even need to aim. Any further suggestion of violence, and your romantic future goes flying into oblivion. That goes for all of you,” he added. “In fact…” He glanced down at the pile of confiscated equipment and picked up Gwen’s pistol. The motion jostled the pile, and the little plastic box Ianto had seen earlier tumbled free and fell to the floor. Both Dr. Peters and Ms. Braithwaite automatically leaned forward to see what had fallen.

It was the distraction Ianto needed. He lunged forward and snatched up the plastic box, then jumped back and brandished it like a shield before they could react. “Put the guns down and step away from the counter, or I end all this right now.”

Evelyn Braithwaite arched her eyebrows. “What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Jones?”

“Did you think you had the patent on making threats?” Ianto twitched his head in the direction of the water tower. “That sculpture is pretty important to you. You said over and over how proud of it you were. But it’s not just for the ambiance, is it?”

Dr. Peters looked nervous, but Ms. Braithwaite merely crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean I know why there’s a watertight door in the side, and I know why you have to pump water in from the ocean to cool it. Why don’t you take a good look at the base?” They did, as did the rest of the Torchwood team. Ianto didn’t take his eyes from Ms. Braithwaite, and he saw her expression falter for an instant. “That bag is filled with explosives. It’ll be hard to play matchmaker when your servers are a pile of slag.”

“Not to mention interrupting the transmission of your control signal,” Toshiko added from somewhere behind Ianto. “I had a look from the top balcony earlier, before security grabbed me. That metal housing isn’t just a heat sink; it’s a mast radiator. Efficient, having one structure that does both.”

Ms. Braithwaite’s smile had dimmed from five stars to three, but she attempted a casual shrug. “I’ll admit it would be a minor setback, but hardly catastrophic. We have redundant systems at every office.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ianto countered. “You told me about your security, remember? Everything stored offline. No chance of hacking or industrial espionage. If you’re that tight-fisted with your records, you’re probably just as protective of your precious match algorithm—not to mention the signal to control the nanites. Wouldn’t want anyone at a branch office accidentally accessing that frequency, would you? I’m willing to bet your entire operation runs through one set of hardware. _That_ set.” He tutted. “Shameful way to run an international corporation. You know, here on Earth, we have a saying about eggs and baskets.”

“One I shall have to heed, in the future.” Ms. Braithwaite’s smile had a predatory edge. “It appears we are at an impasse.”

“Not necessarily.” Dr. Peters brandished the data key again. “Let me revise my offer, Mr. Jones. You hand over the detonator, I give you your signum, and you and sixty percent of Earth’s population live happily ever after. If not…” He tucked the data key into his fist and positioned his index finger over the keyboard of the computer terminal. “You and your signum will be two of billions to vanish from history.”

“We don’t make deals,” Jack snapped. Pain rimmed his voice. “Ianto, blow the damn thing.”

“And kill your friends, along with everyone else?” Dr. Peters countered. “Remember, nearly all of you have first-phase nanite patches.”

Ianto adjusted his grip on the plastic box. In spite of his bold challenge, his hands were sweating, and he had no idea how to resolve the situation without more casualties. Jack had already been shot twice, and it was mere luck that had spared the rest of the team. The majority of the earth’s population was one keystroke away from death. The fates of his friends and the entire world were balanced on the edge of a knife, and it rested in his hand. He let his eyes rove over the pile of confiscated equipment, searching for a solution. He _had_ to find a way to end this showdown before anyone else paid the price.

“Think of the lives you could _save_ , Mr. Jones,” Dr. Peters continued. “You don’t want all that blood on your hands. And think of your own future! Everything you’ve ever wanted is right here. You and your signum can finally be happy together.”

Ianto stared at the key, just visible between the doctor’s fingers. If Peters were telling the truth, that file held the secret to his happiness, his true love, the soul bond he’d been craving all his life. One word, and he could have it.

All he had to sacrifice was the liberty of the entire human race.

Ianto looked over at his team, tense and waiting, watching him.

He looked at the computer terminal at Dr. Peters’ fingertips, waiting for the fatal command.

He looked at the device in his hand.

He took a step forward.

“Ianto.” Jack’s voice held a warning.

“I know.” Ianto could only hope that Jack would understand. “This is my only chance.”

“Ianto, they’ll kill you as soon as they have the detonator. They’ll kill all of us. Blow it. Now.”

Ianto moved forward again. “I have to do this, Jack.”

“Ianto, this is bigger than you!” There was a pitch of desperation to Jack’s voice. “What’s more important—your love life, or the future of the entire human race?”

“To me?” Ianto spared Jack a glance as he stepped up to the security station. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Ianto reached out his hand for the data key, but Dr. Peters stopped him with the barrel of Gwen’s pistol against his forehead. “Detonator first,” he reminded him.

“Right.” Ianto slid the device across the counter with his right hand. His left fell near the pile of confiscated weaponry, and he flinched as his thumb grazed the tip of Owen’s knife.

Dr. Peters picked up the plastic box and carefully pocketed it. His mouth stretched into a grin. “I told you those pills would make you more trusting,” he sneered. “Too bad. Goodbye, Mr. Jones.”

The barrel of the semiautomatic was cold against Ianto’s face, and through it he felt the agonizing final pressure as Dr. Peters pulled the trigger.


	31. Chapter 31

Time dilated as Dr. Peters’ finger squeezed the trigger. For one brief instant, paralyzing fear lanced through Ianto, and he prayed he had remembered correctly.

The trigger clicked home.

Nothing happened.

In the rush of relief, Ianto flashed his brightest, most tourist-worthy smile. “Oh, I may have forgotten to mention,” he said amiably, “Gwen was out of ammunition.”

As he spoke, his fingers closed on the hilt of Owen’s knife in the weapons pile beneath his fingers. In the next second, he dove to the side of the security station and severed the bundle of cables running to the computer. A flash of sparks seared his hand as the terminal went dark.

Dr. Peters roared as he lunged across the counter after Ianto, scattering the rest of their equipment. Toshiko, who was nearest the station, leaped forward and shoved the guns across the floor toward the others. Evelyn Braithwaite stepped out from behind the security station and tried to find a target in the fray as Jack rolled forward to retrieve his revolver.

Jack was faster. “Enough!” he shouted, his revolver aimed at Ms. Braithwaite’s head. “Stay right where you are. Put the gun down.”

She eyed him appraisingly. “Or what?”

“Or I shoot you,” Jack answered simply. “I don’t know what you look like without that shimmer cuff, but I doubt you’re bulletproof.”

“Ooh, clever boy.” Ms. Braithwaite set the pistol on the counter as ordered, then held out her arm, the heavy bracelet swaying on her wrist. “Would you like to see?”

She did something with the bracelet and her human form fell away, revealing a gray-skinned hulk in a too-tight power suit. Black lips peeled back from long, angular teeth in a snarl.

“What the hell is that?” cried Owen.

“An alien, I’d guess,” Gwen answered practically. “What do we do with her, Jack?”

Toshiko was still kneeling near Ms. Braithwaite’s feet, digging frantically through the pile of equipment. Swiftly, the alien seized the back of Toshiko’s neck in one massive hand and hoisted her, using her as cover from Jack’s revolver. “Now _you_ will drop your weapons!” the creature roared over Toshiko’s cry of pain. She inched automatically toward the computer terminal. “I can still kill half of the world’s population!”

“Not likely,” Jack shot back. “Ianto killed your kill switch. And we’ll have that tower offline long before you can log in to the system on another computer.”

“We shall see,” Ms. Braithwaite hissed. She pitched Toshiko toward Jack, then dodged around the other side of the security barrier. Before Jack could take new aim, she was barreling across the lobby toward the water tower, ducking and weaving between the support columns.

“Stop her!” Toshiko cried. “If she moves the bomb, it won’t take out the support struts—”

Jack raised his gun, but the columns spoiled his aim. “Keep that one there!” he shouted as he dashed after the alien. The creature was already halfway across the atrium, climbing over the low concrete wall into the fountain pool. Jack took a flying leap and caught her in the hips with his shoulder. They both tumbled into the water.

Toshiko groaned and rolled to her knees, then crawled back toward the equipment pile. While Owen kept his gun trained on Dr. Peters, Gwen stepped forward and held up a pair of manual restraints. “I’m taking you into custody. For your own sake, I suggest you cooperate.” She reached to cuff him, but the massive diving watch was in the way. “Remove your watch, please.”

“Oh, dear.” Dr. Peters put his opposite hand on the watch face. “Do you think this will take long? I’ve a luncheon appointment.”

Ianto suddenly realized what the watch was. “No! Don’t touch that!” He raised his pistol, but it was too late—Dr. Peters had morphed into another massive form, gray and gnarled. His white lab coat stretched taut over his newly-enlarged shoulders. With a sweep of his arm, he batted Gwen backward. She fell into Owen, knocking the pistol from his hand.

“Stop!” Ianto leveled his pistol at the white-coated creature. “Stay where you are, or I’ll shoot.”

“Will you?” The being formerly identifiable as Dr. Peters chuckled, a murky, muffled sound in his throat. He lumbered forward. “Frankly, Mr. Jones, you don’t seem the violent ty—”

Ianto squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck just below the collarbone, or what most closely corresponded to it, and a stain of black fluid spread across the white coat. The alien gargled in rage and stumbled against the security table. “How dare you!” he hissed.

Ianto shrugged. “Told you to hold still.”

“Just for that…” The alien held up his hand. Between his long fingers flashed the silver case of the data key he still held.

Ianto’s heart stuttered. He hadn’t realized—

Dr. Peters flung the case away, and Ianto watched in horror as it arced high over the security station and clattered uselessly against the revolving door. It came to rest a few yards beyond the security strip.

Ianto’s mind blanked. He had been so focused on stopping the kill switch that he hadn’t even thought of grabbing the key during the fight, but now it was gone. Erased. His signum’s name lost to him in an instant…

Gwen’s voice cut in on his shock. “So, cuffing isn’t an option. Think Weevil spray will work on him?” She was back on her feet, apparently none the worse for the fall. Behind her Owen was holding the alien at bay with his pistol, which he had evidently retrieved.

Ianto shook himself back to the present; no time to process what that meant for him, not while they were still in combat. “The SUV’s parked two blocks west of here. There’s a sedation kit in the back. And a cattle prod. Bring both.” He raised his gun again.

Gwen raised her eyebrows at the vindictive snarl in his voice, but headed for the revolving door. “Right. Be right back.” As she crossed the security line, she kicked the data key back over toward Ianto. “I don’t know what this is, but here.”

Ianto collected the key and tucked it into his pocket. He didn’t dare indulge in hope; he had to stay focused. He would throw himself on Toshiko’s mercy later.

Owen reached past Toshiko, who was sitting on the floor doing something with her PDA, to collect a spare magazine from the pile on the floor. He ejected the partially-spent mag from his weapon and slammed the fresh one home. “Looks like Jack’s getting the worst of it over there. Think I should take a shot at the bride of Frankenstein?”

Still covering Dr. Peters, Ianto flashed his eyes toward the pool, where Ms. Braithwaite was holding Jack’s face underwater. Jack’s limbs were thrashing, but it was clear he was losing strength. The water around them was slowly staining red from his bullet wound. “Yes. Help him.”

Owen took aim and squeezed off a shot, but Ms. Braithwaite saw it coming and lifted Jack by the throat just as he fired. Jack’s body twitched as the bullet struck him low in the back.

“Shit,” Owen muttered.

Toshiko looked up from her PDA. “What? What happened?”

Owen hesitated and glanced from her to Ianto. “Er… I think she just hurt Jack pretty bad.”

As Jack’s resistance failed, the alien hurled him bodily into the side of the water tower. He struck the metal in a sour chorus of musical tiles, then slid motionless into the water. Owen swore and let off another pair of shots, but they pinged harmlessly against the concrete edging as the creature took cover. “Jack’s down. I’m going closer for a better shot. Tosh, cover me!” He started toward the fountain.

“Owen, wait! Stay back!” Toshiko leaped to her feet, holding the PDA. She turned toward the pool and shouted, “Jack, if you’re alive, get clear!”

“I don’t think Jack’s moving.” Owen glanced between her and the alien, who was now slogging toward the base of the fountain. “What are you doing? We need to stop her!”

“No, we just need to destroy that tower. And I’ve just finished programming the detonator transmission.”

“What?” Dr. Peters’ mutated voice gargled. He stared at the device in her hand, then touched his pocket to feel for the plastic box. “But _I_ have the detonator!”

“Nope,” said Ianto. “What _you_ have is the remote control for my garage door.”

Owen stared at him. “Your _what_?”

Ianto shrugged. “I didn’t know which one was the detonator.” Owen continued to gape, and Ianto rolled his eyes. “It’s called _bluffing_ , Owen.”

Before the doctor could retort, Ianto’s eyes slid past him to see Ms. Braithwaite reach the base of the water tower and reach for the bag. “Hit it, Tosh! Now!”

Toshiko pressed a button. The explosion ripped through the atrium, showering them with fountain water and bits of molten PET plastic, severing half of the water tower’s supports, and blowing Evelyn Braithwaite back into the concrete wall, where she lay unmoving. With an ear-splitting shriek of rending metal, the massive helix of the tower rolled slowly to one side before collapsing against the railings of the upper floors. Near the tower’s base, an electrical fire sprang to life, billowing through a vent in the sculpture toward the surrounding balconies. Soon one side of the atrium was ablaze.

When the shrapnel storm had subsided, Ianto pulled himself upright and looked around at the architectural carnage. “I think you did it, Tosh,” he called. He could scarcely hear his own voice over the scream of the fire alarms. Or was that just the ringing in his ears?

Toshiko shook her head and shouted back. “We still need to make sure the—”

Her voice faded beneath another deafening groan as the body of the sculpture split under the unbalanced weight of the servers inside. Equipment broke through the gaps, spilling several stories to devastate the lobby below. “Look out!” Toshiko shouted, piling into Ianto. He pulled her with him into the shelter of the mezzanine as a bank of electronics smashed where they had been standing. They tumbled to the floor, and Ianto lay stunned for a few seconds, pain radiating in equal measure from his ears, hip, and solar plexus. The last of these turned out to be Toshiko’s shoulder, which she accidentally ground into his ribs as she tried to roll off of him.

“You really have to start paying attention,” Toshiko coughed, struggling to her feet. “That’s the second time in half an hour I’ve had to move you out of the way of something deadly.”

“Thanks. I owe you.” Ianto glanced around, his eyes watering in the acrid smoke. “Looks like Dr. Peters wasn’t paying attention, either.” He pointed to a white lab coat and the pulpy remains of an alien arm that just showed beneath a pile of rubble.

“Tosh! Ianto!” Owen appeared from the spreading wall of smoke, holding the sleeve of his jacket over his nose and mouth. “You okay?” When they answered in the affirmative, he waved them toward the door. “Get outside! Those are heavy metals burning. Toxic.”

Ianto started to follow, then jerked to a halt. “Wait—where’s Jack?”

“Don’t know, but he’ll survive anyway. Come on, out!”

Ianto pulled out his pocket square and held it over his mouth as he stepped back into the atrium, which was now fully aflame. Beneath the smoke, Ianto could just see two motionless forms draped over the crumbled edging of the pool. What had been Ms. Braithwaite was in no condition to rescue, but he couldn’t leave Jack’s body to burn. Ignoring Owen’s protests, he rushed into the smoke cloud, seized the lapels of Jack’s saturated greatcoat, and heaved him over the concrete rubble and toward the door. Soon Owen appeared beside him, hauling up Jack’s arms and dragging him toward the exit. They managed to get through the shattered doors to the relative safety of the street just as Ianto ran out of air.

As they staggered out of the building, some part of a higher floor crashed down on the entryway they’d just exited, blowing glass and flame into the street. The heat at this distance was unbearable, and Ianto fell to his knees, unable to breathe. Owen took Jack’s weight from him and dragged the body across the street, then returned and half-guided, half-carried Ianto to the same place.

Ianto collapsed on the pavement beside Jack’s body, wheezing and coughing. It took a few minutes for his head to clear, but when he glanced around, Gwen was standing nearby, already on her mobile, coordinating with the fire department. Toshiko was waving onlookers back from the blaze, and Owen was kneeling beside him.

“I told you not to go back in,” Owen scowled. His brusque manner was a relief, and Ianto knew his condition must not be too serious. The only time Owen’s bedside manner was anything but rubbish was when someone’s life was in danger. “Don’t blame me if you have permanent lung damage from this.”

“I was holding my breath,” Ianto returned, though the words were followed with more coughing. His entire face felt seared, and he wiped reflexive tears from his eyes. “I just need some fresh air. I’ll be fine. How’s Jack?”

“Dead.” Owen lifted Jack’s wrist to check for a pulse. When he let go, the arm flopped to the ground, limp. “Yep, still very dead. Not sure how long it takes him to come out of it, but judging by the damage, probably a while. He was right next to that thing when it blew.” Owen poked curiously at Jack’s body. “Huh. Back of his skull is missing. Hope that grows back.”

Ianto’s stomach lurched. “I’ll stay with him.”

Owen gave him an odd look. “Why?”

“Seems like the polite thing to do. Also, lets me catch my breath a while longer.” He coughed again. “Go help Tosh; I’ll be fine.”

After Owen had gone, Ianto started to inch closer to Jack’s body, but something sharp jabbed him from his pocket. He rolled to the other hip and pulled out the data key—or what was left of it. The case had been crushed into pieces, probably when he’d thrown himself out of the way of the falling equipment. Ianto carefully flicked away the outer shards of plastic, but when the internal workings were exposed, it only confirmed what he already knew in his soul. The circle of brown magnetic film had been torn through the center. Even if by some miracle the self-destruct hadn’t wiped the information, there was no way to retrieve data from a disk that had been physically destroyed.

Ianto tossed his last fragments of hope into the street and turned back to Jack’s body. The explosion had devastated one side of Jack’s face, and what remained of his dark hair lay plastered against the pale forehead. It was surreal, seeing Jack’s features gone slack and cold, when he had always been so vivacious. It summoned unwelcome memories of the guilty hours after Abaddon, when Ianto had had to strip Jack’s clothing and manipulate his limp body into a vinyl zipper bag for cold storage. For a moment, the choking sensation and searing tears that blinded him had nothing to do with the smoke. He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t bear it.

“Please come back,” Ianto whispered, grasping Jack’s sleeve. “Please don’t stay dead. Please, Jack. They took everything else from me. I can’t lose you, too.”

When Jack gasped back to life a short time later, Ianto clung to his hand like a lifeline.


	32. Chapter 32

Ianto finished toweling his hair and scowled at the pile of soiled clothes on the bench. A few months before, when he’d still been carrying on with Jack, he’d always kept a change of clothing in his locker in case he was ever invited to stay the night. But he’d used his spare clothing several weeks ago after a messy Weevil hunt and hadn’t replaced them. That meant all he had to put on after his shower were the same clothes he’d been wearing all day, which smelled like the charred remains of SoulMatch. His suit had absorbed the worst of the odor, and nothing short of a trip to the dry cleaner’s would help it.

Ianto tentatively sniffed the pinstriped wool, then sneezed. Maybe he’d just leave the jacket off for now.

As he dressed, he couldn’t resist looking at his birthmark. In the hours since the explosion, it had already faded to an indistinct shadow, the nanites dispersing without the control signal that kept them active. Soon every birthmark on the planet would vanish completely. Humanity would be restored to its natural state of stumbling in the dark, looking for companionship and finding love only through trial and error.

Ianto traced his fingers over the faint splotch that remained on his wrist. This mark, this insignificant spot of pigmentation, had steered his life for so long that without it, he felt directionless. He had staked _everything_ on finding his signum, and to what end? He was just as alone now, only without the hope that there was someone out there waiting for him.

Well, he knew there was _someone_. He doubted Dr. Peters had been lying about that. But thanks to the doctor’s last vindictive act, he would never know who it was.

Ianto left the showers and climbed the stairs to the main level of the Hub, where Gwen was typing halfheartedly at her computer. “Shower’s free now, if you’d like to clean up.”

Gwen smiled up at him. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just wait ‘til I’m home. Maybe I’ll call ahead have Rhys run me a hot bath.” She looked blissful at the thought.

“Lots of bubbles,” Ianto suggested. “I had to shampoo three times to get the smoke smell out of my hair.”

“And you don’t even have that much hair!” Gwen pulled a lock of her own hair around and sniffed it, then screwed up her face in disgust. “Ugh. I hope I don’t have to shave my head. I smell like burning rubbish.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but you might consider a different cologne,” said Jack, coming up behind her. His face and clothing were still thoroughly soiled from his multiple-death experience at SoulMatch. He’d been fielding phone calls for the full two hours since they’d returned to the Hub, and evidently hadn’t found time to clean up or change. “Just got off the phone with the council. They’ll make sure the building will be condemned for structural instability, per our report. I’ve already dealt with the insurance company, so there won’t be any investigation. As soon as the DfT can reroute traffic away from that block, they’ll take down the rest of the building.” He bent over the workstation to look at Gwen’s screen. “What’s the status at ground zero? Any updates?”

“Tosh called in a few minutes ago. Even though SoulMatch was using mostly terrestrial equipment, she’s identified a few pieces of alien tech in the building. The construction crew that’s contracted to clear the rubble has agreed to put any electronics they find into a separate shipping container for us, just in case.”

“Good. Let them do the heavy lifting.”

“And Owen wanted to know how much of the alien remains you wanted him to try to collect. Apparently they were burned pretty badly, and there’s not much left.”

Jack shrugged. “If they’ve been incinerated already, less work for us. Tell him to pack up anything that’s identifiable as non-human, but I don’t care about the ashes.”

“Well, he said he’s going to call you himself to discuss it.” Gwen flicked through the notes she’d made from the call. “Also, Tosh managed to find the business charter and employment records in a fireproof safe in one of the offices. You remember the other company founders—those mysterious millionaires who came out of nowhere? Turns out they were stationed at regional SoulMatch offices around the globe. And, funny thing, they’ve all stopped answering their phones.”

“Not surprised. There’s a security alert, their entire network goes down, and two of their operation heads die under mysterious circumstances? They probably hit the panic button before the media even reported the fire. They obviously knew about Torchwood, and probably UNIT and the KVI as well. Would have been stupid not to have an emergency exit strategy.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s been ten hours since we burned down their headquarters. That’s plenty of time to go underground. If we’re lucky, they’ve already fled the planet by now.”

“You don’t think they’ll stay and try to rebuild?”

He shook his head. “Now that their control network has been deactivated, their entire plan is shot. They’d have to start from scratch, except they can’t, because now we’re on to them.”

Gwen frowned. “But if they came from the future, what’s to stop them from just jumping ahead to a later point in time and doing the same thing after we’re all gone?”

Jack stared down at her. “After we’re _all_ gone?”

She laughed. “Oh, right. I guess you’ll still be here to stop them.”

“Seems that way.” Jack looked over at Ianto. “You’re awfully quiet, Mr. Jones. Anything wrong?”

“Not really.” Ianto forced a smile, but it felt as though the strain would crack his cheeks. “Just been a long day.”

Jack gave him a searching look and opened his mouth to say something, but the trill of his mobile cut him off. “It’s Owen,” he said, opening his archaic flip phone. “Just collect the big chunks,” he said by way of greeting. Owen’s voice warbled faintly on the other end, and Jack turned away. “Oh. Well, there has to be a filter in that fountain somewhere, right? Maybe it got washed in there…”

Ianto watched Jack wander off across the catwalk, chatting casually on his mobile as though the world hadn’t been in very real peril a few hours before, and heaved a sigh. A touch on his arm surprised him, and he spun around to see Gwen wearing a sympathetic smile.

“Sweetheart, it’s a shame it all came out like this. I know you must have really wanted… what the doctor offered you.”

Ianto swallowed a lump in his throat. “I did.”

“Well, things may still work out in the end. If your soulmate is out there somewhere, who knows? Maybe you’ll still meet that person someday.”

Ianto smiled grimly. “Even if I did, how would I know? The marks are vanishing.” He glanced at his wrist again. All that was left of his Torchwood T was a tan smudge, like an old coffee stain.

“When you meet them, you’ll just know.” She patted his arm. “You’re a good catch, Ianto. I’m certain there’s someone special out there waiting for you.”

“ _I_ _’m_ not,” he muttered. Gwen’s look of sympathy melted into pity, and Ianto quickly forced a smile. “Sorry, I’m just feeling out of sorts after everything today. Don’t mind me. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? If you need—”

“I’m fine, Gwen. Really. Thanks.” He scanned the area for a distraction. A topic change. An escape route. “Are you done with your reports? I’ll take them.”

Gwen gave him a gentle knowing look, but handed over the paperwork. Ianto retreated quickly to Jack’s office, where he spent several minutes arranging and rearranging the reports on the desk. He just had to stop thinking about it. Focus on the mundane, the familiar routine of work that had gotten him through every previous tragedy. He had a job to do now; he could wait until he got home to fall apart.

He wasn’t aware of the passage of time, but at some point he glanced up to see Jack watching him from the doorway. “Gwen’s gone home,” Jack said when Ianto had noticed him. “I told Owen and Toshiko to do the same. The rest of the follow-up can wait until tomorrow.”

Ianto straightened the corner of a stack of papers for the hundredth time. “These need your signature,” he said preemptively.

Jack just gazed at him, with that same look of pity Gwen had worn. “Are you okay?”

Ianto’s shoulders hitched higher. “I’m fine. Why is everyone so concerned with my welfare all of a sudden?”

“Because I don’t think you’re fine.” Jack moved to stand at the desk beside him. “Look, I just want to say I’m sorry for the way things turned out. I know the whole reason you started this investigation was so you could find your signum.”

“That wasn’t the only reason.”

“It’s the one you you cared about.”

Ianto tried to shrug, but it felt more stiff than casual. “No point in dwelling on it now.”

Jack looked down at the mobile in his hand before setting it on the desk. “Owen tells me they managed to recover some physical media.” He hesitated before adding, “If you’d like, I could have Toshiko see how much she can repair. Maybe she could find a backup of your file…”

Ianto sighed. “No, Jack. It’s fine, really. I know that I’ll never learn who my signum is. Was. I made my choice, and I’ll live with the consequences.”

Jack nodded, and something in his eyes told Ianto he understood such scenarios all too well. “That decision must have been hard.”

Ianto thought back to the moment he’d seen the data key in Dr. Peters’ hand. “Not really. I can live without a soulmate—I’ve proved that, haven’t I?—but I couldn’t risk all those people’s lives.”

“You did the right thing. It was brilliant, baiting them and cutting the power like that.” Jack shook his head. “You even had me fooled. Scared the shit out of me when he put that gun to your head, though.”

“Sorry. I’d hoped you would catch on, but you were probably still out when Gwen told us she was empty.”

“I can’t be too upset. You saved four billion people.”

Ianto smiled wryly. “Put it like that, and one name seems a negligible price to pay. Hardly worth mentioning.”

“Not just a name. Sacrificing something that mattered to you, your personal happiness…” Jack squeezed his shoulder. “That was a noble act, Ianto. It may seem small, but it’s not. I know how much finding your soulmate meant to you.”

Ianto nodded, not trusting his voice to answer. He had been managing well enough on his own, but Jack’s compassion was almost too much to bear. It was hard enough to maintain his composure without that look of sympathy in Jack’s eyes.

Jack shifted awkwardly in the silence. “I know we’ll be cleaning up this mess for a while, so we’re going to be pretty busy, but if you need a day…”

“I don’t,” Ianto cut him off. “I want to get it over with.”

Jack seemed startled by his vehemence. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I am. The sooner we expunge SoulMatch from human memory, the better.”

“Not that I disagree, but…” Jack eyed him curiously. “Can I ask why?”

Ianto had found a spark to light his way out of the emotional gloom, and he fanned it. “It just makes me so _angry_. What they did. Manipulating us. Making us think the marks were what mattered.” He shook his head. “I wasted so much time because of them. So many chances.”

“Chances for what?”

Ianto tried to think of a way to explain in generalities, but waves of emotion battered him and sucked the words away like sand beneath his feet. At last he just voiced what he’d been thinking: “When I was with Lisa, I was afraid what we had wasn’t… wasn’t _real_ , somehow, because our marks didn’t match. I held so much back. I was afraid to tell her how much I loved her. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

Ianto looked at Jack then, and the tide overwhelmed him. Every feeling he’d experienced, all the affection he’d suppressed, the horror he’d felt in that instant when he’d thought Jack had died…

Jack mistook the tears in Ianto’s eyes for memories of Lisa, and he wrapped Ianto in a tight hug, just supporting him as he pulled himself together. Ianto buried his face in Jack’s shoulder as he reined in his racing thoughts. He couldn’t go on pretending not to care. He couldn’t lie to Jack any longer. Jack might not be his signum, but that didn’t limit what else he could be.

But that meant he had to _tell_ Jack—and face whatever came of it, for good or ill. Ianto braced himself with a deep breath. “And you,” he murmured into Jack’s collar.

Jack loosened his embrace so he could look at Ianto’s face, but kept Ianto within the circle of his arms. “Me?”

Ianto met his eyes. “I pushed you away. I thought we weren’t meant to be together, so that somehow meant we _shouldn_ _’t_ be together.”

Jack’s eyes widened slowly as he worked out the implication. Ianto turned away to scrub the tears from his cheeks. “I even turned you down for a date, and that was the hardest thing, because I wanted to say yes more than anything.”

Jack caught Ianto’s chin and turned his face so their eyes met again. “Just so you know, that offer is still open. Dinner. A movie.”

Jack’s smile was permissive, and Ianto laughed. It felt good to let go, to stop worrying about whether or not it was the right step. To know that Jack still wanted him, after everything that had passed between them. “Throw in coffee after, and I’m yours.”

“Done.” Jack’s grin was blinding. “Got plans for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Ianto stared at him. “Jack, I’ve just survived a gunfight, an explosion, a fire, and a collapsing building, and you… _didn_ _’t_.” He touched a bloodstain on Jack’s tattered shirt. “We’re a mess.”

“So I’ll shower and change first. And you don’t look bad.” His eyes went to the crown of Ianto’s head. “You look kinda cute, with your hair all fluffy. I’ve never seen it without product before.”

Ianto flushed and ran a hand over his drying hair to mash it down. “It’s not cute; I look like a child without my hair styled.” He scuffed a hand over the soot on his shirt front. “Besides, I’m filthy. I can’t go into a restaurant like this.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Okay, so dust off the trousers while I’m cleaning up, and you can borrow one of my shirts. Come downstairs and pick one out.” He paused and arched his eyebrows. “Unless you’d like to join me in the shower?”

“On our first date?” Ianto tried to look shocked. “What would you think of me?”

“I’d like to show you, but then we’d never make it to dinner.” Jack winked before disappearing down the ladder to his quarters.

Ianto followed. By the time he reached the floor, Jack was already stripping out of his ruined garments. Standing at the wardrobe under the pretense of selecting a clean shirt, Ianto watched Jack’s reflection undress in the mirror. It provided a nice vantage of Jack’s muscular back and shapely…

Suddenly, Ianto spun around. “Jack!”

Jack jumped at the alarm in Ianto’s voice. “What? What’s wrong?”

Ianto pointed at Jack’s hip. “Your tattoo.”

Jack twisted to try to see the mark on the back of his hip, but the location was just beyond his view. “What about it?”

“It’s _gone_.”


	33. Chapter 33

“That’s impossible,” Gwen said. “Tattoos don’t just fade like—” She turned to Jack, then whirled away and stared hard at the ceiling. “Jack, your towel.”

Toshiko blushed and looked away, and Owen coughed pointedly. Jack glanced down and re-wrapped the towel he’d thrown loosely around his waist before climbing out of the bunker. Once they’d realized the tattoo was missing, Jack had abandoned his shower plans and called the team in to investigate, but he hadn’t bothered to dress again. The tucked end of the towel kept coming loose, letting the fabric slide down below the level of decency.

“You could have taken the time to put your trousers back on,” Ianto pointed out. “A missing tattoo isn’t exactly a seconds-count emergency.”

“Didn’t exactly have to call us all back in for it, either,” Owen muttered. “I hadn’t even gotten home yet.”

Jack ignored the comment. “I’d just have to take them off for the scans anyway.” He leaned over Owen’s shoulder to look at his screen, his bare shoulder nearly brushing the doctor’s ear. “So what did you find? Any residual… anything?”

Owen scowled and leaned away from the naked torso beside him. “Nothing. Not even a trace of subcutaneous ink. How long has it been gone?”

“I can’t be certain. It happened sometime since…” He glanced at Ianto. “When’s the last time you stared at my naked ass?”

The silence that followed was beyond awkward, and Ianto felt his face growing hot. “Um. Not since… before you left with the Doctor, I think.”

Owen scratched his chin. “So it could have happened any time in the last six months.”

“Fourteen,” Ianto corrected, then remembered that the rest of the team didn’t know about Jack’s extended travel. He shot Jack an apologetic look, but Jack waved it aside.

“Ianto’s right. I was gone with the Doctor for over a year. A lot… happened to me, so I suppose the tattoo might have been affected then.”

Gwen shook her head. “But tattoo ink wouldn’t vanish in a year. It can fade a little over time, but that takes years. There ought to be some trace of it.”

Toshiko gave Gwen an appraising look. “You seem to know a lot about tattoos. Do you have more than just the one bee?”

Gwen flushed. “Please don’t ask. I was young and stupid. It was a phase.”

Toshiko grinned. “That sounds like a story for later.”

Owen tapped through his test results again, then frowned up at Jack. “You’re sure it was a tattoo, right? Not a scar or something that could have healed when you died and came back?”

Jack shook his head. “I’ve had it for years. Decades. If it were going to reset when I died, it would have happened long before now.”

“Where did you get it done?”

Jack looked faintly sheepish. “I’m… not sure. I was kinda drunk at the time. Just woke up with it.”

Gwen’s jaw dropped. “You got yourself a tramp stamp while drunk?”

Owen snorted. “How pissed do you have to be to not remember getting a tattoo?”

“Isn’t it a little unprofessional to tattoo someone who is intoxicated?” Toshiko put in.

Jack rolled his eyes. “It was back in the seventies, okay? A lot of people were on a lot of drugs. I’m probably just lucky it was on my arse and not somewhere more visible.”

Toshiko’s head snapped up. “What year?”

“What?”

“You said it was the seventies. What year?”

Jack hesitated—only an instant, but Ianto saw it. “It was the fifth of August, 1976.”

Toshiko raised her eyebrows. “You don’t remember getting the tattoo, but you’re certain of the date?”

“I’m certain.”

Gwen frowned. “How can you be sure, if you were so drunk?”

Jack’s expression shuttered. “It was… someone’s birthday.”

“I see,” Gwen laughed. “Must have been some birthday party, then. Too much partying?”

“Just the opposite. I wanted to…” Jack shook his head. “I ended up in a big fight with someone I’d been close to. I was angry and upset, so I went and deliberately got hammered on alien liquor.” He crossed his arms. “It wasn’t my proudest moment, but it’s what happened.”

“August, 1976,” Toshiko murmured, leaning over Owen’s other shoulder to use his keyboard. “I’d just turned a year old. Your tattoo was almost as old as me, Jack!”

Ianto shivered. Of course he knew, objectively, that Jack had lived in Cardiff for well over a century, but despite Jack’s offhand comments about his adventures with Queen Victoria or Neville Chamberlain, he’d never really thought of Jack as that much older than the rest of the team. But when the time was counted by the lifespans of people Ianto actually knew, Jack’s advanced age suddenly seemed more real.

Sudden pressure closed Ianto’s throat. No wonder there had been such a gulf between them, when their life experiences were so different. How could he have ever thought they were meant for each other? Jack had to be _six times_ Ianto’s age—possibly even more, since Jack refused to reveal his true age. He’d seemed sincere enough when he’d asked Ianto on a date, but how could Ianto ever be anything more than a diversion for Jack, when he was only a child by comparison? Once more Ianto felt a twinge of loss for the signum he’d never known, the person who would have matched him in both age and affection…

Before the misery could seize him again, Ianto shook himself and consciously squelched the self-pity. His signum had gone, just like Lisa had gone, and there was nothing to be gained by continuing to mope about something he would never have. He had to focus on the future. On the present. On his life right in this moment, and the possibilities it presented.

On Jack—whose towel was beginning to slip again. Ianto cleared his throat and motioned to Jack, who hitched the fabric higher on his hips.

Toshiko hummed softly as she scrolled through files on the computer. “It was a long shot, but I don’t see anything major for that date in the rift records.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You really think aliens came through the rift and stamped a Torchwood logo on my ass?”

“Well, aliens somehow managed to brand every child on the planet with a coded symbol, so I wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibility.” She stopped and blinked suddenly. “Wait, that date was after the meteor shower. I wonder…” She turned and jogged up the steps to her own workstation. “Give me ten minutes,” she called over her shoulder.

Owen glanced up at Jack, still mostly naked beside him. “As the attending physician, might I suggest you use that ten minutes putting on some _pants_?”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Jack—still not showered, but now at least clad in trousers and a t-shirt—joined Toshiko at her workstation. “What’ve you got?”

Toshiko set down her soldering iron and brandished a scanner, now festooned with some extra wires and a dangling circuit board. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to make it pretty. Ianto, Gwen, would you mind showing me your arms? No, the one that had your birthmark.” She ran the scanner over the place where each of their marks had been, then examined the readouts on her terminal. “Good, it’s working. Now, Jack, turn around and pull down your trousers.”

Jack flashed a salacious grin. “If I had a penny for every time I heard that…”

“You’d deflate the pound, with so much money leaving circulation,” Ianto finished.

Toshiko scanned the area where Jack’s tattoo had been, then worked with the data on her screen. After a moment, she turned back to Jack. “Well, I have good news. Your tattoo did not vanish.”

Jack glanced up from buckling his belt. “You mean it’s still there? Invisible, or something?”

“I mean it was never a tattoo to begin with. Look at this.” She pointed to the display. “I was able to detect the remains of the nanites that had made up Gwen and Ianto’s birthmarks. They’re gradually dispersing, but the organic components are still concentrated in the area where their marks were. And the site of your tattoo is showing the exact same percentages.” She turned back to Jack and spread her hands. “It wasn’t a tattoo. It was a SoulMatch birthmark.”

Ianto’s heart stuttered.

Jack frowned. “How is that possible? I wasn’t even born on this planet.”

“No, but you were exposed to the same seeding enzymes as all the unborn children that year. And you do have a tendency to come back from the dead. Maybe the nanites responded to that somehow.”

Owen had joined the group while Toshiko was explaining. “You said you don’t remember much of the night you got drunk?”

“No, I just blacked out and woke up the next morning. I didn’t even realize I had the tattoo—or whatever it was—until someone pointed it out a few days later. I just assumed I must have gotten it while I was drunk.”

“Could you have drunk yourself to death that night? Alcohol poisoning? Accident?”

Jack shook his head. “I always know if I’ve died. Coming back is… it feels different. And if my body had reset, the hangover wouldn’t have been nearly as bad as it was.” He grimaced with the memory, but then his expression changed. “Wait a minute. I think I did die not long after that. There was a big case… It would be in the records. Ianto?”

Ianto, standing off to one side, didn’t answer until Jack called his name again. “Er, sorry. What did you need?”

“Get me the mission reports for the two weeks following the fifth of August, 1976.”

“Right. Back in a mo.” He felt Jack’s eyes boring into him as he retreated to another terminal and pulled up scans of the archived files. It took several attempts; his hands were trembling too much to type. “Got them. Sending them to your screen now.”

Ianto hung back from Toshiko’s station, fists shoved deep in his pockets, as Jack perused the reports on her display. “Here it is,” Jack said after a few minutes. “I remember this. I was caught in a boiler explosion on the eighth. That one definitely killed me; nearly blew one of my legs off, and burned sixty percent of my body. I was limping for a week. Took me days to regrow the skin…” He broke off and exchanged a glance with Toshiko. “Oh. Does that mean…?”

“I think we have to assume it does.” Toshiko confirmed her theory with a look at Owen, who nodded his agreement. “You were exposed to the nanites shortly before growing a lot of new tissue. Evidently they established themselves in your body then, and gave you a birthmark just like all the newborns.”

“So Jack was the only person over thirty who had a birthmark,” mused Gwen. “See, Jack? You weren’t too old!”

“Well, it’s no wonder they wanted him in the program,” muttered Owen. “Their goal _was_ maximum procreation, after all…”

Ianto couldn’t maintain his composure any longer. He left the others laughing and hurried back to Jack’s office, where he slumped against the desk and tried to still his pounding heart. His breath came in gasps, and he tugged at his collar, feeling strangled. After so much time, and so much longing, and so much worry… He scrubbed damp palms against his trousers.

A few minutes later Jack entered the office, shutting the door quietly behind him. “I’ve sent the others home, since it turns out it’s not a crisis after all.” He stopped beside Ianto and touched his shoulder. “What’s going on? You looked upset out there. And I’m guessing it’s not just because we had to postpone our date,” he added, forcibly lightening his tone.

It took Ianto a moment to find his voice. “Your mark,” he managed after a few false starts. “It was the Torchwood T.”

Jack nodded. “Weird, isn’t it? That’s why I assumed it was a tattoo. I never imagined a birthmark would look…” His eyes widened in realization, then went to Ianto’s wrist.

Ianto closed his eyes. “They were the same.”

Jack took a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

“You remember when I first told you they’d found a match for me? The reason they didn’t put me in contact with my signum then was because they couldn’t locate them.”

“What does that mean?”

“I heard Dr. Peters say they knew who it was, but their system couldn’t pinpoint that person’s location anywhere on the planet.” Ianto opened his eyes and met Jack’s gaze. “That was two months ago.”

Jack counted back. “When I was with the Doctor. On another planet.”

Ianto nodded.

“I see.” Jack swallowed. “So… I guess that means we’re compatible.”

“More than that.” Ianto spoke slowly, letting the words sink in. “It means I’ve finally found my signum.” He reached for Jack’s hand, tentatively lacing their fingers together. “And so have you.”

A look of wonder dawned on Jack’s face. “Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even know I had one.”

A little flutter of panic passed through Ianto’s stomach. “Disappointed?”

“Just the opposite. It’s kinda nice.” Jack digested the concept for a moment, then smiled. “I can see the appeal in knowing for certain.” He put his arms around Ianto. “Not that I was ever in doubt.”

Tears stung Ianto’s eyes, and he pressed his forehead against Jack’s neck. It felt so _right_ , as though this were where he had been headed all along. This was where he belonged, and somehow, through everything, he had always sensed it. “I wanted it to be you, Jack. All the time I was searching, I just wanted it to be you.”

Jack pulled Ianto close, holding him as though they had never been apart. “To tell you the truth,” he murmured against Ianto’s ear, “so did I.”

The confession shot warmth through his core. Unable to contain his ardor a moment longer, Ianto crushed his lips to Jack’s in a searing, long-overdue kiss, which Jack returned with equal passion. For a time, the rest of the world fell away, and there was only their connection. Their souls, truly reaching each other for the first time.

A few minutes later, when he had caught his breath and rediscovered gravity, Ianto gave a thoughtful hum against Jack’s cheekbone. “You know, I’m glad the marks are gone.”

Jack roused himself from nuzzling Ianto’s throat. “Oh? I thought you were pretty invested in the whole soulmate thing.”

“Too invested, I think. In the end, the marks only got in the way. I mean, as you said, it’s nice to have confirmation that we’re—well, maybe ‘meant to be’ isn’t the exact phrase, but… right for each other? Compatible?” He shrugged. “But I only feel that way because I was already in love with you when I found out you were my signum.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re… in love with me?”

Ianto felt the warm flush creep up his neck, but it was no use denying the obvious. “Keep up, Jack,” he chuckled, pulling him in for another kiss.

Jack reciprocated enthusiastically, then pulled back to search Ianto’s face. “You don’t think it would have worked the other way around?”

“You mean, if we’d found the marks first?” Ianto shook his head. “Can you imagine, when I first came here, if I’d just walked up to you and introduced myself as your soulmate?”

“I probably would have panicked and actually run you over with the SUV that time,” Jack admitted. “You’re right, it’s better this way.”

Ianto nodded. “It’ll take some adjustment, but in the end, I think people will be happier making their own choices. Knowing it’s what _they_ want. Not being told whom they’re supposed to be with, and then trying to figure out how to make it work.”

Jack traced a thumb across Ianto’s cheek. “And you still would have chosen me? Even without a mark?”

“I _did_ choose you without a mark, Jack. I chose you when I thought you just had a regrettable tattoo. But I would have chosen you no matter what was on your arse.” Ianto smiled coyly, and his hands dropped to Jack’s waist. “Speaking of which, I think it’s about time you had _nothing_ on your arse.”

Jack laughed. “A man after my own heart.”

“I’ve been after your heart for months.”

“You’ve got it now.” Jack moved closer. “Along with the rest of my body, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll take ownership right after you shower.” Ianto kissed him lightly. “You still smell like a garbage fire.”

Jack scowled. “There’s no need to get personal.”

“Oh, getting personal is the end goal. But shower first.”

Jack leaned in, his lips brushing Ianto’s ear. “Join me?” he murmured.

Ianto made a show of thinking it over. “We still haven’t had our date yet.”

“We can always go out for a late supper.”

Ianto chuckled. “All right. But I will need to borrow some clothes.”

“Trust me,” Jack grinned, “you won’t need them for a while.”

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Is it always going to be like this with you? A constant stream of innuendos, come-ons, and double entendres?”

“Hey, you’re the one who started it.”

“Never said I didn’t. I just want to make sure you know what I expect of you.”

Jack laughed and tipped his forehead against Ianto’s. “I keep thinking I know what to expect of you, but you still surprise me, Ianto Jones.”

“I try my best.”

Jack stayed there for a moment, his smile softening. One hand came up to cradle Ianto’s face. “I would have chosen you, too,” he whispered. “You know that, don’t you?”

Ianto leaned into his touch, savoring the affection. “I know, Jack.”

“Good.” Jack kissed his forehead, then stepped back and took his hands to lead him toward the bunker ladder. The blinding smile returned to light his face. “Now come on. There’s a tiny shower downstairs waiting for two grown men to cram into it.”

“I’m glad you specified ‘grown.’ I was starting to question my maturity.”

“Probably due to the conversation we’ve just been having.” Jack waggled his eyebrows.

Ianto answered that with an eyeroll. “Proving that whatever the age difference between us, we’re at least equally immature.”

Jack traced his thumb over the inside of Ianto’s wrist, where his birthmark had been. “I guess that’s why we’re a perfect match.”

“One of many, many reasons,” Ianto agreed. He stepped close and kissed Jack, slowly and tenderly and full of love. “Let’s go start a list.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ADVERTISEMENT:** Be sure to check out the sequel, _Marked!_ Well, more of a fluff epilogue, really. Scroll to the bottom for a link!
> 
>  **Author's Note:** So here’s another box checked on my fanfic bingo card! Soulmate AUs are the candy of the fanfiction world: Sweet and indulgent, bite-sized, and frequently with little substance beyond what it says on the tin. And like delicious candy, people can’t get enough of them. Sometimes you just _need_ that sugar rush (especially in a fandom like _Torchwood_ 's, where the subject matter is often heavy and must be countered with a regular diet of happy feels).
> 
> It should come as no surprise that dark chocolate is my indulgence of choice—the _really_ dark kind that takes forever to melt on your tongue. So for my candy story, instead of writing a sweet, fluffy soulmate AU that resolves in one chapter, I went for something a little darker and more complex. I wanted to combine the soulmate concept with the world of Torchwood canon, which is the diametric opposite of sweet and fluffy (and usually involves aliens). As with many of my stories, the plot developed into something bigger than I’d planned, and jumped from an estimated 20K words to 74K. I hope it was worthwhile, and that my dark chocolate was not too bitter for readers who were expecting something with more sugar content!
> 
>  **Acknowledgements:** Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who followed the story and commented, especially those of you who provided your thoughts or theories as I posted each new chapter! I appreciate each and every response, and in some cases, your comments actually prompted me to alter bits of the story or write additional scenes that hadn’t been in my original “final” version. All told, I added around 6,000 words to the story between the time I started posting and the time I finished, including one entire additional chapter. (See? The more you comment, the more story you get to read!)
> 
> This story probably would not exist without **gmariam** , who stirred up my muse during chats about her canon-following soulmate fic _Animoré_ and also put up with ~~weeks~~ months of me dragging my feet and complaining about scenes I wasn’t happy with. And a tip of the hat also goes to **Alicewantsjam** , whose comment on _Animoré_ got me thinking about soulmate registries and how they would work. (See? The more you comment, the more you inspire other people to write stories for you to read!) :)
> 
>  **Chapter note:** Since it didn’t fit neatly into this chapter’s narrative, I ended up cutting it from the final draft, but I know someone will wonder about the significance of the date Jack got drunk. August 5, 1976 was Melissa Moretti’s first birthday. Lucia Moretti didn’t put Melissa into hiding until 1977, but at some point, she forbade Jack from seeing his daughter, which he naturally would have wanted to do on her birthday. You can extrapolate the reason for the fight and why Jack was so upset on that particular night.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Marked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14609523) by [AVAAntares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVAAntares/pseuds/AVAAntares)




End file.
